I Won't Let the Boogeyman Come
by Chocolate Boy
Summary: While on the job, Dean and Sam coincidentally run into another pair of hunters investigating the same case. And a lot more happens than a simple mystery solving and ganking as both Winchesters become more acquainted with one of the hunters. Sam/OC/Dean
1. Cups n' Cakes

**Heeeeeeeeeeeeey! This is my first try at a SPN fic. I'll tell you all now that I don't know exactly where this story is going or what time place it takes in seeing as though I'm new to the SPN fandom. Only on Season two so I'm not sure I'll be able to include Castiel or all the others characters that show up post S2. But don't let that stop you all from reading. Hopefully I'll get honest to God opinions and feedback. In love with the Winchester Brothers since episode one. Don't know who I love more.**

**And excuse the 2012 pop culture references. I know that if this is set in a S2 world none of my references would have happened yet. But I'm a sucker for uses pop culture in my stories so I apologize for that. This just starts in an off kilter universe until further notice.**

**Thanks.**

**I Won't Let the Boogeyman Come**

**Chapter 1 – Cups n' Cakes**

**. . .**

Snacks. That's what Angie Anderson was sent into the gas station to get. That's exactly what this long trip she was on needed. Lots and lots of snacks.

Snacks of all kind. Cavity encouraging sugary ones. Heart clogging greasy ones. Tongue numbing sour ones (Angie's personal favorite). Just stuff that makes someone wanna bounce off the walls and run around until they collapsed. Stuff that makes you wide awake until you crash into a deep, coma-like sleep. Angie was gonna get just that.

It was a fair trade. Trent was put on gas duty while Angie searched for tasty treats. And thank God for that too. Trent was terrible at picking out the snackums. You'd think that after knowing each other for so long he'd understand her taste buds. She wasn't that hard to figure out when it came to her food preferences. She loved Mexican food, sour candy, and citrus flavored soda (it was soda not pop. And sneakers not tennis shoes). And she hated anything chocolate or crème filled... and if you got her skittles she only ate the red and green ones... and you could never go wrong with anything by Entenmann's, Willy Wonka, and Coca-cola.

Bottom line: Get her some powdered donuts, a box of nerds, and a full throttle and she'd be cool.

See? She wasn't too hard to please at all.

"Pretzel combos," Angie sighed, inspecting the bag of pretzels before adding it to her armful of treats. Those were for Trent. He was a munchies kind of dude and liked dark tasting soda. Pepsi, Root Beer, Dr. Pepper.

Perusing snack after snack, Angie figured she had all she needed once both her arms were preoccupied with keeping them steady. Time to give 'em to the cashier, pay for 'em, and endure another three hours on the road until her and Trent reached their destination.

Things didn't go according to plan.

As soon as Angie glanced up, she caught an eyeful. And by eyeful, she meant a cute tall guy also looking around for goodies. When did he come in here and how did she not notice him? Was she really that deep in thought where she didn't hear the gas station door swing open? Or hear his footsteps? Or the sound of bags rustling beneath his fingers? Or just frickin' feel his presence? Her skills were slipping.

Rule #1 - Always be aware of your surroundings.

Every hunter followed their own rulebook. And just like how each hunter's journal was completely unique, each hunter's rules and the order in which they followed them were just as individualized. Angie learned at a young age to keep track of everything. Be on top of your game and notice the little things because they come in handy. Trent's first rule, expect the unexpected, complimented Angie's. While Angie was inspecting and surveying the premises, Trent was ready to handle anything that was out of the norm.

Never mind not noticing the tall stranger immediately, she was just happy she got to do so sooner rather than later simply because he was delicious eye candy. Better than any of the candy in this place, hands down. Sadly, he wasn't for sale like the rest of the edible heart attacks stacked up in perfect precision on the racks. God only knows how many girls would be lining up to buy him if he were.

But there wasn't any harm in just looking right? Looking and dreaming were perfectly fine.

Knowing she'd never see the unknown man again, Angie wasn't gonna just oogle at a distance. No, that was too conspicuous for her tastes and she'd definitely get caught doing that. She was gonna play this one cool.

Well, as cool as she could. What Angie considered playing it cool was actually more or less lukewarm. But that wasn't her fault. If she were out hunting, or playing FBI, or any kind of character, she could do it hands down. It was just when she was being herself that things got a little tricky.

Sliding into the same aisle he was in, Angie scooted over to about a few feet away from where he stood. She pretended to be inspecting a box of Milk Duds when really she was inspecting the fine specimen picking up a box of Peanut M&M's. Gross. That candy was shit.

He had to have been roughly just above 6'3''. Which kind of made Angie, who was tall for her gender, feel dwarfed. She wished she could've seen what he was workin' with beneath all those layers of clothes, but it's hard to tell just how muscular someone was when they insisted on wearing too many damn articles of clothing. It was hotter than the Devil's ball sack out here in South Carolina. He needed to take off a just a few things. And it wasn't because she was being pervy, it was because he was making her hot.

That sounded worse than what it meant. It was that since it was so hot, and he was wearing so many clothes, that the heat radiating off him made her hot...

Anyway.

His eyes were an odd color. She didn't know what to make of them. They looked hazel, but only around his pupil. The outer edges were either a storm blue or a dull green. She couldn't tell. But his chocolate colored hair, that looked as if he missed a few scheduled haircuts, flowed down his face and caressed his dimpled cheeks.

He was _really_ cute. Boyishly so. Reminded Angie of one of those misunderstood artists that no one really knew anything about, but all the girls flocked to him to try and get him to open up and reveal the depths that lurked within him. A tortured soul who knew more about the world than he wanted. He'd brood and pout and wander about town aimlessly deep in thought.

For a quick second, Angie humored herself and imagined being the girl who could open him up. Telling him that while brooding was fun n' all, stepping out of the darkness and into the light was great too. The thought disappeared as quickly as it came. Because she was a hunter, and getting close to anyone beside your partner in crime a choice few other hunters was out of the option. Misunderstood Artist would pay for his treats, get in his car, and go on to live a normal happy life. And Angie would see to it that all the monsters that tried to prevent that normal life from happening were out of the picture. The two could never mesh.

But a girl could dream.

"Hi," Misunderstood Artist spoke. And for a second, Angie thought he was talking to someone other than her. But with the exception of the cashier, who was busy filing her nails, Angie was the only other patron inside the place.

She sucked in a quick breath and smiled. "Hey."

He gave a half smile of his own before his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes did a weird squinty thing. Angie didn't know if he was in deep thought or if she said something to offend him. Maybe he wasn't a "Hey" kind of guy. Maybe he was one of those hay-is-for-horses d-bags. Hopefully not.

"Can I ask you something 'cause I am seriously in need of a second opinion?" He ran a hand through his sweet sweet hair that made Angie want to curl up in it and take a nap before giving her a another smile. This one far more weary than the first.

He could've asked her anything he wanted in the world. What she thought about global warming, a wedding proposal, how she felt about LeBron going to Miami, a wedding proposal, what came first the chicken or the egg, a wedding proposal... Anything he wanted.

Quickly and unexpectedly (where was Trent when you needed him) he held up his hands, revealing two different candy boxes in each of them. "Mike n' Ikes or Sour Patch Kids!" he said with exuberance, stern face contrasting against his animated voice.

Angie couldn't contain the laugh that went spilling from her lips. She was beginning to think that Misunderstood Artist wasn't as misunderstood as what she pegged him to be. He was dorky and funny and lighthearted.

Everything she was.

Everything she didn't want him to be.

He was supposed to be an ass. That way she could leave without thinking how things would've turned out between them had the circumstances been different. He was making it really hard for her to leave. Trent was gonna be _pisssssed._

"I say both," Angie answered post chuckle. "But if you're the type who doesn't like to indulge, go with the Sour Patch Kids. Besides, Mike n Ike broke up anyway. Ike can do so much better."

Lighthearted Dork, formerly known as Misunderstood Artist, followed her original advice and chose both. "Yeah, I heard. It's a shame. Years of making damn good candy down the drain."

"Peanut M&Ms, S.P. Kids, Mike n Ikes, you seem to be a one note junk food shopper."

"The M&Ms are for my brother. He can't get enough of those." He looked down at his three lonely boxes. "But I guess you're right. I do need more variety. What do you suggest?"

Angie knew what he was trying to do; she wasn't that blind when it came to the opposite sex. He wanted to buy more time with her. Which meant he wanted to talk to her more. Which meant he had to have liked her. Which made all of this the more heartbreaking.

But instead of declining to help pick out candy, Angie caved and decided humor both himself and her. "You called on the right person because I'm the woman for the job."

"Must be my lucky day."

It took everything within Angie to not give in and swoon. "Right. So. You've got vegetables and fruit taken care of with the M&Ms and Mike n Ikes. We need to balance out your diet."

"Wait... how are M&Ms a vegetable?"

"Peanuts are in the vegetable family. You gotta keep up with me..." she trailed off, waiting for him to give a name.

"Sam. Sam Adams. No relation to the founding father or his beer."

"Carmen Carrera." Yeah, Angie felt terrible not giving her true name. But that was just a reminder to not get too attached. "Anyway. Now we need calcium. Follow me." She turned, heading towards the the dairy products. Stopping dead in her tracks, she glanced at Sam. "Chocolate milk is the way to go."

He gave an appreciative nod before grabbing him a gallon of the chocolaty good stuff. "What's next?"

"Grain. You've gotta have grain in any healthy diet. It's a must. So what better way to get your grain than with..."

Reading her mind exactly, Sam headed over to what she was going to say and grabbed a box. "Oatmeal Cream Pies."

"You also get oils and fats because of the cream. That's killing two birds with one stone."

"And saving money." Sam finished trying to balance all his junk.

Sucking in a breath, Angie moved over to the cash register. She placed all her goodies on the counter before picking up a beef jerky. "Last but not least, protein. If you want to be big and strong, you need protein and Mr. Slim Jim gives you just that."

Sam laughed. It was soft and sweet and smooth. Like honey trickling down a hot spoon. The more he did it, the more Angie wanted to find something to keep it continuing. "Thanks, Carmen. I wouldn't have been able to pick out such healthy food without you."

"That'll be $15.50," the cashier said boredly, voice pulling Angie back to reality. She wasn't named Carmen, she couldn't flirt and chit chat with hot boys, and she wasn't supposed to still be in the God damn gas station. She was Angie Anderson, who hadn't been on a date in Lord knows how long, and was on her way to Duke University to snoop around dorms and see if there was anything supernatural going on around the campus. In fact, her staying here, tormenting herself with the idea that she was normal was hurting more than it was helping. And in a few minutes, this would all be over. Just another thing for Angie to reminisce about as she tried to go to sleep on a hard, dingy, motel mattress.

"Here, I've got it." Sam said, placing his items on the counter and taking out his wallet. He pulled out a twenty, the bill weathered and worn with time and that lead Angie to believe that he wasn't strapped with cash. Rich men always had the crisp bills that still contained that new money smell. So there was no way she was taking this struggling guy's money. He was probably still in college living off ramen and canned ravioli. That, and she didn't want to accept his money anyhow.

"It's okay. I can pay for it." She waved him off, pulling her own twenty dollar bill out.

But still, Sam insisted. "It's the least I can do for all your help. I mean, you basically made breakfast, lunch and dinner for me. That and your pajama pants are awesome."

Angie almost forgot she was wearing her South Park pajama bottoms. Who the hell wore jeans on long car trips? That was just bothersome. And they were built for comfort and speed so if she had to chase down a vampire or shifter she'd be fine. In any other case she would've been above and beyond embarrassed, but Sam made her feel okay with it. He was fine with her dressed like a bum _and _was a fan of South Park.

Was there anything wrong with this guy? Come on, there had to be something fucked up with him. Chivalrous, generous, sweet, handsome, cool hair, Angie tried finding a flaw with him. Maybe he had really bad breath. That couldn't be it 'cause his breath smelled like minty toothpaste. Or was a racist. That would really prevent him from liking Angie. But that couldn't be the case neither 'cause he was seemed perfectly fine with a girl's butterscotch complexion. Or... he had a girlfriend at home. Yeah, that was it! He had a girlfriend. A lovely, girlfriend who baked him cookies and held his hand in public and loved him unconditionally. No Angie's allowed.

"Really, there's no need-"

"Come on, let me feel as if I made your day." And that's when it happened. Sam laid on a smoldering pair of puppy dog eyes. Angie was not prepared for it in the slightest and Sam knew the power they had because his pouting lips kept trying to twitch into a smile. "It's really no trouble at all."

Angie couldn't say no.

"Okay," she sighed, letting that swoon she had been containing this whole time loose. Taking the bag from the cashier, watching as Sam paid for everything, she chewed on her bottom lip, eyes now glancing at the floor. "I guess this is where we split up."

There was a brief silence before Sam gave a slight bitter nod. "Yeah."

Angie would be lying if she had said that she wasn't surprised when Sam didn't ask her for her number. Maybe he wasn't as into her as he thought. Maybe she read all the signals incorrectly. Ugh. why was she frowning? This was supposed to alleviate things not make them worse. Now she didn't have to pretend as if she'd call him. Now she didn't have to pretend at all.

With a wave goodbye, Angie stepped out into the parking lot, walking into the thick, palpable heat of South Carolina. It was muggy and humid and reminded Angie of all the reasons why Summer was not her favorite season. And a car blasting what sounded like screaming vocals and heavy guitar reminded her why she hated rock music.

It was blasting hard enough for her to feel the pounding of the drums sink into her skin and ricochet off her heart. She searched the lot to see that it was coming from a jet black, muscle car. Angie couldn't really tell what type of car it was because she was nowhere near a vehicle enthusiast. And she couldn't make out the man in the car because he was too busy frantically air drumming to whatever song was playing. Whoever he was, she deemed it was Sam's brother since there was no other car parked in the desolate area.

Really, who could stand that type of music? It all sounded like a cacophony of noise. Listening to the static of a broken television was more soothing to her ears. And Angie considered herself a music lover. She listened to all types of genres ranging from Jazz to K-pop, she just never had the desire to listen to rock. It didn't do anything for her besides give her a headache.

"Angie!" she followed the familiar Southern voice to find Trent, sitting in the driver's seat, aggravatingly waving her over. Trent had to have been mad to be able to scream over that music. "Get yo black ass in the car so I don't have to listen to this crackerjack music no more." With that, the roar of the engine to their black Hummer resounded through the air as Trent turned on the car and their own music began to blare. The stereo system to their car was far superior to whatever car Sam's brother had and drowned his pathetic rock song all the way out. And as the Kanye West song blazed, lyrics of Lamborghini Mercys, flowing out of surround sound speakers, Angie saw the brother stop all his air drumming, looking around disgustedly before rolling up his windows to try and prevent anymore of their music from seeping in. She supposed her hatred of rock music rivaled this man's hatred of hip hop. But that didn't stop Angie from dancing her way to the passenger side of the car, noticing the brother was watching her every step of the way before she hopped in.

Trent drove off out of the lot and onto the long winding highway. Angie prepared herself for a ride filled with leg cramps and the occasional motion sickness. They were three hours away from North Carolina which meant they were three hours away before potentially beginning their newest case.

Angie left behind all thoughts of Sam along with that terrible music his brother enjoyed.

**. . .**

**That was chapter one. And yeah, both Angie and Trent are black. Not enough OC's on this site who are sistahs and brothahs.**

**Not sure if I'm actually going to continue this. Or if you all want to read a story such as this. Let me know what you think if you do.**


	2. Hit Me Like a Man

**A few things we need to talk about before going on to the story. **

**1 – I changed Bree from a woman into a man. Bree is now named Trent. I think it helps Angie's character a bit to have a male friend around. And I think there aren't a lot of female hunters so the chances of there being a pair of female hunters is unlikely. Anddd, you all weren't gonna like Bree. She was a bit of a bitch. **

**2 – This chapter is in first person. Trying to see which one I feel more comfortable with writing and which one you all are more comfortable with reading. It's easier writing First person than than third for me. And first person is a bit more personal. **

**3 – There are a lot of mermaid stories out now, huh? I know I'm not the only one who noticed the influx of those stories. I've seen at least three or four. **

**4 – Peanuts are a vegetable I believe. They are legumes which peas are and peas are vegetables. If anyone can tell me and show me otherwise, please do. I may reward the person who can show me actual facts by giving them a character in this. Nothing big, maybe like a college girl or a waitress or something. But still. **

**Shout outs! **

**Melanie-Baker: Yeah, Angie and Sam are on cool terms right now. But will they stay that way? Thank you for the review. **

**Greysister22: You enjoyed reading this? YAY! Tell me if you enjoyed this chapter. **

**TheRavynFire: Intrigued... hmmm. I'll take it. P.S. Sexy avvie you got there. **

**SPN Mum: I hope this story is fun. I didn't want to make another deep dark deppressing story. I wanted a fun character and fun moments. Thank you for thinking this was funsies. **

**Nymartian: I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks Angie/Sam (Samgie?) are adorable. And she meets Dean in this chapter so tell me what you think of their... meeting. And I completely agree, Black Ocs need love too. And if I have to be the one to always make a black girl, then I have no problem doing that. **

**Let's see how things play out.**

**Chapter 2 – Hit Me Like a Man**

**. . .**

Breaking into a house wasn't the funnest part of the job. Really, none of the job was fun. But sneaking into the house of the recently departed just seemed downright disrespectful. Then there was making sure no one saw you and reported you to the police. Then there was tiptoeing around in utter darkness which was horrible. And I'll tell you all this now just so it doesn't come as a surprise later; I hate the dark. Fucking hate it. Yes, I'm a hunter who is afraid of the dark. No shame in that. After seeing what I've seen at night, you'd be a little fearful too.

After picking what has like my billionth lock, Trent and I entered the home. A shabby, unkempt bungalow outside of Duke University's campus. Giselle, the woman whose case we were investigating, lived at the house with her boyfriend prior to her demise. We were just here to check the premises in case of anything out of the ordinary. Well, having your head twisted in ways it should never be and your body contorted like the girl from The Exorcist damn sure signaled something out of the ordinary. This was just to get some helpful blues clues.

Flashlight in one hand, knife in the other, I watched as Trent descended up the stairs, taking the second floor of the house. And what a mess this house was. Empty pizza boxes scattered about, week old dishes crusting over in the sink, and the floors were sticky enough for me to feel like my feet were super glued to the floor. The house reeked of sour clothes and burnt bologna. And the furniture wasn't exactly brand new. More like stolen from off the sidewalk that was left for the trash man to come get. But hey, that's college students for ya. I never got to experience that kind of lifestyle. I was more accustomed to living in cars and eating foods that only could be microwaved.

… I guess that was similar to what they were going through.

My heart almost exploded inside my chest after seeing what I thought was a mouse scurry by me. I fucking swear, if this house was infested with mice then I couldn't do this. Dude, mouse was too cute of a word to call what I just saw. Mickey was a mouse. Minnie was a mouse. This was a rat. This was a big ass, rabies filled, rat. This was Master Splinter. It would make sense he'd be here with all these damn pizza boxes. Ninja Turtles must've infested this place too. That's all I needed to know; that the Ninja Turtles were real.

There weren't any signs of supernatural in this place. It was just a regular stank home. And if Trent had found anything he would've given off the bat symbol somewhere or made a pigeon noise to let me know something was afoot. Coming here wasn't gonna solve the case on who contorted Giselle's body like they were trying to reconfigure the human anatomy. That she was a human Rubik's cube.

"Poor girl." Whatever did this, so long as it was a what and not a who, would he handled with. The son of a bitch would pay.

The creak of the back door Trent and I just came through pulled me away from my thoughts, sending my body into panic mode. Panic mode, consisted of my mouth going dry, my palms getting clammy, and my heartbeat ringing in my ears. It also sent my mind into overdrive and I had to clear my head before my thoughts took over.

Cocking my head in the direction of the creak, I immediately turned off my flashlight and pressed my body onto the side of the kitchen cabinets. Whoever was making the noise wasn't Trent and it wasn't Giselle's boyfriend who was being questioned by the police right now. Covering my mouth with my hand to prevent them from hearing my breathing, I concentrated on footsteps and movement. There was more than one person in here. Two. And they were men because they weren't exactly light on their feet as they tried to be quiet but didn't do such a good job. One of them especially was heavy moving. Not graceful ballerinas like Trent or I.

"I'll take down here, you look upstairs," one of the men with a gruff gravel-like voice said. It was commanding, a little harsh, and really masculine. I guess he was the ring leader just by the way he called off the order and the second man followed without a protest. That meant the HBIC was stuck down here with me, while the other went upstairs where Trent was.

Slowly edging myself along the splintering cabinets, I found myself stuffing my body into a cramped little pantry, attempting not to bump into the canned filled shelves. I did it just in time too because as soon as I concealed myself, the stranger came into the kitchen. There wasn't much I could see of him, the only lighting in the room was a microwave light. But I could tell that he was fairly tall, around 6'2''. He wasn't carrying a weapon on him, at least not any I could see. And he had a strong build, which made me a bit uneasy because I didn't want to have to fight anyone but I knew that's what this was going to come down to. I'd have to take this one out and get to the other one before Trent found him because Trent wouldn't care if the guy was human or not, he'd fuck them up regardless.

Putting my knife, a cute little switchblade, into my pocket, I went to grab a can from off the shelf. This would be used to take him out. I took a small breath, hoping that would ease my anxiety. Yes, hunters still got anxiety when they had to fight. And I haven't had to fight a human in a while. The last time I did, I got shot. And getting shot wasn't fucking fun.

He edge towards pantry I concealed myself in and I readied myself to spring out sneak attack him. Problem was, immediately after moving my body just a millimeter, not even that much, all I did was inhale, the entire wall of cans behind me came crashing down. Tumbling down like an avalanche on a snowy mountain and it alerted the man to my whereabouts. Well fuck, wasn't this just grand. As his footsteps grew louder and I could sense his body coming closer, I shook my head free of all the mental swears I was giving myself and did what I had to do.

Rule #15 – Kill or be killed.

With a sudden jolt of energy, I sprang from out the confinements of the pantry, startling the stranger. I swung the canned good in my hand, hitting him directly in his temple. He staggered backwards in a disoriented mess. This was where opportunity showed itself and I was gonna take that bitch. I hopped onto his back, locking my arms around his neck to choke him out. This was my plan; fight both of them like a mini ninja.

He adapted quickly to what was going on and shoved me against the cabinet behind him. Hard. Gritting my teeth together, trying to recuperate to my head banging off the wood, the man grabbed me, his calloused fingers gripping the back of my neck. He yanked me over his shoulder like I was a ragdoll and I fell to the ground with heavy thud.

"Fuck!" I gripped my back, my other hand flying to my skull. Another blow to my head. And the hard linoleum floor was unforgiving to my back. Why did it cause me so much pain. What did I ever do to it?

He was strong. I had to give him that. But not only was he clothed heavily and had on jeans which weighed him down, but I knew he wasn't quicker than me. I may have not been the strongest, but I _could_ pack one hell of a punch_ and _was a fast s.o.b. Agility and speed always trumped brute strength.

Ignoring the pain, I jumped to my feet, taking no time at all to begin what was a violent fist fight between the two of us. With every punch and swing he took, I slowly found my rhythm within the fight. I learned when to block his hard swings at my head, and when to take the opportunity to punch him back. The man was an offensive fighter, tending to be more the aggressor. And I was defensive, taking the time to keep my body safe until I saw the right time to strike. Good. Let him wear himself out. I'd block until his energy drained. By that time, I'd still be full of energy and ready to go.

But his energy never seemed to dwindle. Man could've went for hours and we'd still be in a standstill. Him swinging at me. Me blocking him. Every second that went on was another second Trent could've been in danger. And that put my fear on ten. I couldn't let Trent down. I couldn't handle knowing I wasn't able to prevent something from happening to him. It was time to do something.

Weapons became a part of the fight.

Spotting the a spatula in the corner of the dimly lit kitchen, I took the punch to my jaw, the sound equivalent to the crack of a baseball being hit by A. Rod, just to be able dive for the metal spatula, incorporating it into our fight. I swung around, backhanding him. Oh, that had to sting. Especially since I kept beating him over the head with it before kicking him in the sternum, sending him crashing into the pantry filled with fallen cans. I tossed the spatula to the ground and flipped out my switchblade. No, I didn't want to hurt him too badly, but it was the only way of taking the man down. And now with the blade in my hand, I became the aggressor of the fight and he became the defender.

That was, until he pulled out his own blade. One that was bigger and shinier.

Fudge! Fudge! Fudge!

There isn't anyway to protect yourself from getting slashed with a knife unless you know how to disarm someone. And even then you still risked getting killed. Not that I was going to kill him. Just hurt him. But now I had to make sure I didn't get slice n' diced too. Getting cut hurt like a mug.

"Put the knife down, sweetheart," he ordered in a low voice. "Let's not make this situation even stickier."

Put the knife down? What? What kind of fool would I have been to do something as stupid as that. He could've had a back up knife. He could've had a gun. I wasn't believing this man for one second. Sorry.

"Oh come on." my voice was just as low as his. "Sticky situations are always the best."

Surprisingly, he risked his body just to be able to get the knife from my hand. He lashed forward, earning a deep cut over his chest before tackling me down to the ground. That was blow number three to my head. Yup, I was gonna get a concussion.

Hard pants and low groans filled the thick air as we both wrestled on the ground. Our bodies entangling with each other's as we both struggled to be dominant and on top. He won naturally since he was stronger, body coming down hard over mine. I locked my legs around him, writhing and squirming beneath him. My skin burned under his fingertips as they dug hard into my skin as he tried to keep me in place.

"Truce?" he said hoarsely between labored breathes.

Every time I tried to move from beneath him, getting a little bit of leverage, he'd slam me back onto the floor, causing my body to arch into his from the ridiculous aching pain. I wasn't going to give in and say truce. Fuck that. Trent's life outranked my own right now and I'd rather die trying then not trying at all.

"Hey!" he grit, fingers digging so hard into my arms that I could feel them on my bones. That was gonna leave a bruise. I bit my lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing me control the scream pressing against my lips. "Truce?"

He must've been just as worn out as I was. In the barely there light I could spot the isolated beads of sweat that slid down his chiseled face. And his body was touching mine more so for support than to keep my still. He couldn't take this fight anymore and neither could I.

But I had to.

I gathered enough strength, which was still weak, to crash my forehead into his nose, finally getting the upper hand and pinning _him _beneath me_. _Thank God. If that didn't work then I wouldn't have had anything left to give. Even now, with my blade pressed against his throat, and his hand trying to force it off him, I was fucking tired and wanted to go home. To hell with this good Samaritan bullshit job I had. I just wanted to ice my jaw and sleep the pain off.

Drawing in a breath, the taste of blood bloomed on my tongue. That's what one too many punches will do to ya. "Fuck it. Truce."

I dropped my knife, but the clinking of my blade hitting the ground was overshadowed by a more deadly sound. Something that made me almost break out into tears. Something that I was very familiar with. A noise that would paralyze anyone. The damn sound of a gun cocking. And although I couldn't feel it against my head, that would've been stupid, I could sense that it was damn close to it, ready to blow my brains and splatter them on the now even dirtier kitchen floor.

But I liked my brains exactly where they were. Safe and sound in my pounding head.

"Get up. Slowly," gun called out. "Hands on your head."

I knew that voice! I'd heard it from somewhere. I was usually excellent at remembering details but after getting your head smashed in too many times in one day you kind of tended to forget things. I had to hear it again so hopefully it would come to me. "Which do you want me to do first?"

He poked my head with the tip of his gun. I guess the man didn't respond well to jokes. "Put your hands on your head and get up slowly."

Me eyebrows met and a frown formed. "It's gonna be hard for me to get up not being able to use my hands. You may not have noticed, but I'm kind of straddling somebody right now."

"Don't worry. I'll behave." The man on the floor croaked, still having time to make jokes too. Of course, his attempts at being funny made me wanna take the knife now beside us and gut him like a fish.

"Fine then. Get up slowly then put your hands on your head." I really fucking knew this man. He had a voice that was hard for you to forget. And it had to be just recently I spoke to him because his name was on the tip of my tongue.

"Well now you're making me confused." I was stalling. Trying to buy myself and Trent time. Trent needed to get down here and take control of the situation like nowish. I didn't hear any commotion upstairs or what sounded like a fight so I deduced he was still okay. If he wasn't then I was screwed and would royally flip the hell out.

"Now." Gun Man reinforced and I complied, following his orders directly. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" I mimicked, voice about eight pitches higher than his. Not the best thing to say in my position but hey, couldn't take it back now.

"I'm the man with the gun," Gun Man replied and I cringed at his corniness.

The guy I had just finished fighting however, thought it was the funniest thing. "Army of Darkness reference! Good job," he congratulated, peeling himself from the floor. He stretched his muscles, twisting and turning his neck and I heard various bones popping as he did so. He then moved towards me as if we hadn't just done enough space invading to last a lifetime or two. "That was a nice try you gave back there."

He wanted to taunt? Fine, they could taunt. "It wasn't a try, _sweetheart_." He thought I forgot about him calling me that? Naw. "And I was kind enough to keep you alive. Had I done what I planned you would've been sushi by now."

"Right." Was his sarcastic reply. "But what's your plan now? Sorry to tell you this, but you're screwed. Rule number two, always have a plan B."

That wasn't my rule number two. Rule number two for me was keep calm under pressure. Which was what I was religiously following now. I wanted to freak the fuck out but a clear head and a cool demeanor kept you alive longer than a panicky one. "That's rule six for me."

Even only being able to hardly see this man's face I could tell he was smiling. "Maybe that's why you're fucked right about now."

"I'd put that motherfuckin' gun down if I were you." Another deep voice called out. But this one was leveled and monotone and contained hints of Southern flare in it. This was who I'd been waiting for. My ace in the hole. My savior. My plan fucking B.

Trent.

Thank you Jesus.

"Bitch, y'all Helen fuckin' Keller in here? You heard me. Put the goddamn gun down." Trent ordered, with the sound of his own gun cocking. A beautiful 9mm. "Think I'm playing and I promise you'll have more lead in you than a mechanical pencil."

I didn't stifle my laughter. "I'd do as he says. He's pretty serious."

Trent always backed up his threats. It was me who was the one to make empty promises. I could talk a good game, just didn't go through with it. Trent did both. And that made him far more dangerous than I was. I knew he had no problem fucking someone up on spot regardless of who they were. That was Trent. Ready to throw down whenever needed.

"You okay, girl? I ain't get here quick enough."

"Everything's copacetic." Copacetic. Code word meaning that one of us weren't okay and needed help. That we actually weren't fine and were hurting. I was really feeling the after effects of the fight. My lip was swollen, my jaw felt dislocated because of his punch, my body was stiff, and my head was hurting something fierce. I couldn't turn my head left or right without wanting to cry and the room was spinning worse than a carousel. Bottom line: I needed to lay done and regroup.

I finally lowered my hands soon after hearing the man's gun fall to the floor and the sound of it sliding to another room after Trent punted it. We had regained control over the situation. The ball was in our court now.

"Names," Trent said, more of a demand rather than a polite asking.

"Jensen Smith," the battered and bruised one said, putting his hands over his head.

"Jared Wallace." Former Gun Man followed suit and placed both hands against his skull, moving to the side of his partner after Trent pushed him by his side.

I had finally caught my breath, breathing now back to it's normal steady inhale and exhale And my heart rate finally stopped racing as I came down off my adrenaline high. "Now your real names."

"We're serious," Jared said.

"What the fuck kind of name is Jensen?" Trent was clearly getting aggravated. Now wasn't the time to play around. "Try again."

"Look," I sighed, mentally and physically drained from tonights exciting adventure. "They're obviously hunters an they must really want this case. Let's just give it to em and head on out."

Trent scoffed as if what I said was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. "Not until they apologize to you."

It was Jensen's turn to scoff. "Apologize? For what? Your partner here was the one who started this. She came at me like a bat out of hell."

That wasn't fair! I was only trying to protect myself and my friend. He would've done the same thing in her position. Anyone would've.

Patting my now terribly stinging arm, I felt blood oozing out of a wound. Well would ya look at that. I got stabbed.

"Let's go. There isn't anything here. Please." I leaned backwards onto a wall, startling myself when I noticed the lights to the kitchen turn on. Finally I could assess the damage of everything. Cans and pots were spilled onto the floor. Random drops of blood cascaded about. It was a mess. Our fight had been a lot worse than what I thought. "Christ."

"Carmen!" My attention snapped towards the two men and my entire stomach dropped like it were on one of those tower drop rides at amusement parks. What I was feeling now was worse than anything I'd experienced during that fight. Pain I could handle. Getting beaten and banged up? No problem. It was horror and shock I wasn't good at dealing with. And I was basically downing in that right now.

There the fuck he stood. The man formerly known as Misunderstood Artist, who became Lighthearted Dork, who became Sam, who said his name was Jared, which was a lie, and now reverted back to Sam. Basically, the man I picked food out for not seven hours ago. The one who I was trying to swear off all attraction to. He was a hunter. Just like me. We happened to meet at a gas station and again the same night.

No amount of air could cure this suffocating feeling. And I'd would need defibrillator soon to bring me back to life. These type of shenanigans weren't normal. This didn't happen everyday. I was under the influence that I'd never see this boy again and let him get a glimpse of me out of hunter mode. But now. Now I had to be completely different. Great.

"You know her?" the shorter of the two men asked, eyebrow raising into a perfect arch. This was the one I just got through fighting. And he looked like shit. Blood was trickling out of various cuts, a black eye was becoming very apparent, his normal sun kissed skin was red and blotchy in various patches. God only knew what I looked like.

"That's my line." Trent placed a hand on my shoulder. I controlled my whimper. "You know her?"

Sam slowly began to nod. "This is the girl from the gas station."

"What the hot one who you were too chicken shit to ask for her number." Never mind Sam thinking I was hot, I was too busy trying to put together the situation. Light bulbs popping over his head, Jensen snapped his fingers as if having an epiphany. "You're the one who was dancing to that terrible rap music."

"Carmen Carrera." Sam looked just as shocked as me. If not more. He knew we weren't supposed to ever meet again. That this was breaking so many laws.

Jensen looked towards his partner confused as shit before breaking out into laughter. He shook his head. "Dude, of course that's not her real name. That's a drag queen."

The room grew terribly silent after his revelation. How did he of all people know that my alias was a drag queen?

"Wow. I'm gay and I ain't even know that." Trent was giving Jensen a once over now. "You flew under my radar. Both of you."

Jensen tried to rub his face before his hand recoiled. He must've stung his swollen eye. "This is like the twelfth time this has happened. Dude, we're not gay."

"Don't get mad a me. Apparently if everyone seems to think so there must be truth to it."

What type of fucking hunters were we? A girl had just died and we were standing in her house arguing about whether or not these two boys were gay. This was fucked up on so many different levels.

And yet, I couldn't control myself from joining in.

"Of course they're not gay. They're clearly brothers." And then began to make sense as I figured out what was going on. "Of course your name is Sam. Trent, these two are Sam and Dean. John's boys."

Trent lowered his gun. "These two are Winchesters?"

Jensen, now known as Dean, couldn't help but grin. "You heard of us?"

"In passing. Y'all ain't fucking famous now." Trent made sure to deflate whatever ego Dean had. "But I gotta say, from what John told us about you, he made y'all seem like top notch hunters. I'm seriously underwhelmed."

Sam's gaze never lifted from me and that put me on edge. Neither of us wanted to address the situation. We had basically played each other, thinking the other one was a normal person doing normal shit. But we were both one in the same. Two sides to the same dysfunctional coin and that seriously dampened my day. He wasn't supposed to know of this life. He wasn't supposed to be a part of this bullshit I got myself into on a daily basis. Now that we were one in the same, there was seriously no way of us ever being together. At least before I could've dreamed. Now I was left with shit.

Lifting myself off the wall, picking up my fallen knife, I limped my way to the door. "I'm out of here. Let's go, Trent. I think I may need stitches."

"Y'all make sure to clean up this mess up." Trent joined my side.

"Wait," Sam called out, moving over to my side. There really wasn't much to say now. He was a hunter. I was a hunter. Couldn't just keep it at that? "I'm sorry for everything."

The Angie he was becoming acquainted with now wasn't the Angie he'd met in the gas station. Right now, I had to play the role of a bitch. You're not allowed to show any signs of weakness in front of others on the job but that went double when in the presence of another hunter. They judged you worse than anyone else. If you were timid, they thought you were weak. It you were silly, they thought you were incapable. If you liked wearing South Park pajama pants, they scorned you for not taking things seriously. If you were a women, you weren't as good as a man. It was best to be stern, harsh, and cold. The hunter that trained Trent and I was like that, Sam's and Dean's father was that way, Dean seemed to be like that, so Sam had to have known that code of conduct as well.

"Whatever." I pulled away from him. "Trent, let's go."

"Right behind you."

Much like at the gas station, I tried leaving behind Sam, Dean, and that fight. But this time proved more difficult. I thought about the two of them the entire car ride.

**That was chapter two! Dean and Angie's meeting was far different from Angie and Sam. I guess that's the life of a hunter, getting bumps and bruises. So would you all want to read this in third or first person? I'm not sure which one I like more.  
**

**Tell me how you feel about this story!**


	3. This Means War

**I'm back with another update. Thank you all for the reviews and answering my question. As long as I am writing Angie's POV, it will be in first person. Yay!**

**Melanie-Baker: Yeah, I'd think hunters were completely oblivious to detecting other hunters. Glad you liked that. And that you're loving this story.**

**Nymartian: I didn't know it screamed sexual tension! But yeah, that is exactly what I'm going for. Dean and Angie will hopefully be sexy and passionate. But Sam and Angie (Samgie?) will be cute and adorable. I know from what I have in store which pairing I like more, but honestly who Angie wants is who Angie wants. Interested in seeing that you have to say about this chapter.**

**SPN Mum: I wish they could've talked longer! But Dean and Angie were both hurting. Let's see how that third encounter plays out. Third times the charm right? Right?**

**Cassandra-Jayne: Thank you for saying I'm doing a fabulous job. Writing these brother's aint no joke. And who says you have to choose between them? I say both! Dean on Mondays-Wednesdays, Sam on Thursdays-Saturdays. Sunday is a resting day.**

**TheRavynFire: Trent has one of those personalities which take a lot of time to get use to, I feel. And I thought using Jared and Jensen as their names would've been cute so thank you for saying you thought it was funny. But Sam and Dean to me are hard as hell to write. They are incredibly 3-D and they pose a challenge for me. Especially Sam. Dean kind of reminds me of other characters I've written. But Sam is completely different for me. And who wouldn't choose a Winchester over a Northman? Pssh, no contest.**

**In this chapter you'll meet a girl by the name of Poppy Agostini. She's not my oc though, just being borrowed from Melanie-Baker. She got to make an OC to put in this story for answering what food group peanuts belonged to, and I am following up on my promises.**

**Chapter 3 – This Means War**

**. . . **

As fast as Trent drove me to Harvelle's Roadhouse, you'd think I only had minutes to live rather than just somewhat hurting. Trent was dead set on getting me there. No amount of pleading with him persuaded him to change his mind. He wanted me to go to the hospital and that was out of the option. And I wanted to go to a motel and sleep it off but that was out of the option as far as he was concerned. Going to The Roadhouse was a healthy medium and I was in too much pain to argue with him and I secretly think he used that to his advantage. He wanted me to see the best (Ellen) and we were minutes away from doing just that.

Harvelle's Roadhouse, written out in neon letters, illuminated the surrounding middle-of-nowhere area we were in. We walked (it was more of a brisk jog because Trent was eager to get me taken care of) up the dusty dirt road and I noticed that there were hardly any cars or motorcycles parked outside. A place like this was usually swarmed on a Friday night at two in the morning. Good. We'd come in and get out with ease. It wasn't until I saw a very specific car that stopped dead in my tracks, snatching my arm (the one that wasn't bleeding) from Trent's vice grip. Of course nothing would go according to plan.

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet," Trent said, trying to grab a hold of my arm but I out stepped him, my gaze lingering on the black muscle car that made me roll my eyes.

"They're here," I frowned, pointing to their car.

It didn't take Trent anytime at all to figure out who "they" meant. "Motherfucker."

"Exactly."

"How'd they get here before us? We left earlier than them and you know how fast I drive."

My stomach was still queasy from that drive. I'd only eaten the candy I'd bought earlier and Trent's speedracer driving, fighting Dean, and getting reacquainted with Sam weren't doing anything at all to help keep it down. And now I had to be bothered with them again? No way. "Time to go. I told you it was a bad idea to come here and now you see why. Winchesters are poison. The whole lot of 'em and I'm not getting into that drama."

Even in the shadows I could see Trent's snarl. "And you think I drove for over an hour to get here just for us to pussy out and go home?"

I didn't even wanna come here! "We don't have a home. We're hunters remember?"

"Don't remind me." Running his hands over his face, Trent let out a long sigh. The sigh itself was about thirty seconds and yes, I counted. "Angie, look, you my girl and I'd die for you. You know that and I know that. But when I tell you that I'm not about to let Andre the Giant and his butt boy punk us out coming here, don't get mad."

Lips contorting into a pout, I knew that this was going to become another argument with Trent. I wasn't in the mood to argue and I really wasn't in the mood to see the Winchesters. Deciding to choose the lesser of the two evils, I gave him what he wanted.

"Fine. You win. But if we wind up having to fight those two, you'll only have yourself to blame."

"Girl I already know we can take them."

"Tell my aching back that."

"And if we do have to fight, I call dibs on Sam. I done seen the damage Dean can do." Trent side eyed me, not bothering to control the smirk on his face as he took in my beaten body.

"Naw, I don't think I handle another fight with Dean. Your turn."

"But you're just positive you can handle Sam?" I wasn't so sure we were talking about fights anymore. Trent and his dirty ass mind. "Well gon' with yo bad self. Bout time you let your kitty purr."

"You're sick. All I was saying was that if it comes down to another fight, and I'm sure it will, I ain't fighting Dean again." Sam looked a lot less heavy handed and savage than his older brother. I wasn't about to open that can of worms again.

Trent's smirk blossomed into a full grin that made me want to die. "You just want a reason to get your hands on Sam."

I could feel the dirt on my chin my jaw dropped so hard. "What?"

"The way you two were looking at each other in the kitchen. Mhm, I saw that look he was giving you. And then Dean slipped up and revealed that Sam thought you were hot. Y'all should've just fucked right then and there on top of the cans n shit. Would've been better than that awkward ass silence y'all stood in."

At least I knew that Sam was just as into me as I was him. That that little spark I noticed in the gas station wasn't an illusion. But that in itself was bittersweet. Sweet because it had been one hell of a long time since I allowed myself to be me in front of another boy and then to find out that he was down for the cause. But it was bitter as shit because under no circumstances would we ever be able to happen. Not a date. Not a kiss. Not a friendly conversation. No. We were hunters. That was my life. That was Angie Anderson. Hunter first, daughter, sister, friend, girlfriend, Angie, everything else second. "Let's just get this over with."

"I got your back no matter what. We're... you're good." Trent reassured me as we marched into the bar.

The loud cacophony of a Johnny Cash song wafted from a nearby jukebox. The pungent smell of nachos and jalapeños made my stomach do back flips. Yum. This place carried a lot of warmth to it. A hunter's haven. A safe house that never turned you down when you were in need. A real family. The only time I ever felt like this was when I came here. There was an unspoken bond between all hunters. Sure, a lot of them were douchebags who were full of themselves, but there was still a bond between every single one of us. A link that tied all of us together.

"Angie! Trent!" A rambunctious Poppy Agostini ran from around the bar, throwing her arm around Trent before moving to me. I cringed in anticipation of her hug, only because I knew it would hurt. But the deathly hug never came. Instead, peaking open my clenched eyes, I saw her take a step back, flawless porelain fingers flying over her gasping mouth. "Christ, what happened to you?"

Then came Jo Harvelle, stepping beside her fellow bartender Poppy. "Ain't it obvious? She got the shit kicked out of her."

I forgot that Jo had little to no filter. Much like Trent. No wonder the two loved hanging with each other, just taking time out of each other's day to trash talk. But how did Jo manage to get along well with Poppy? Poppy was the literal definition of a sweetheart. Like seriously, she made powdered sugar seem bland.

"You don't look much better." Trent didn't miss a beat. His serious face transitioned into a wild grin before he threw his hands around Jo.

Poppy wasn't amused. She was still looking at me with her wild green eyes filled with nothing but concern. Like how a mom looks as their child who just got beat up by the local bully. "Who did this to you?"

Time to lie. "A fell down some stairs."

"Ha, bullshit," Jo laughed.

Folding her flannel shirt covered arms over her chest, Poppy stared at me. I didn't know what to call the face expression she was giving me. Partly because her long dark hair was covering half her face, and partly because she was giving me a poker face. "What type of stairs do this to someone?"

I should've known lying to these two hunters wouldn't have done any good. Especially Poppy. As bad as she was at telling lies, she was just as good as detecting them. But I was too tired to step up my game and think of better lies. And my head hurt too much. The stank ass music playing loudly didn't help with that either.

"An evil flight of stairs," I answered trying to keep as straight a face as possible.

Jo, on the other hand, chose a different tactic than Poppy and decided to air out all my dirty laundry. "Dude, did Dean do this? Him and Sam came in just a bit ago and he looked just as bad as you do. And then he grumbled something about canned soup hitting him in the face."

It wasn't canned soup... it was Spaghetti O's.

I hung my head down in shame. Female hunters were a rarity. And I was in the presence of two of the baddest female hunters in the game. Poppy was the smartest girl I knew, fresh outta Duke with a degree in Social Science. And Jo was a resilient sucker. Letting them know I had my ass handed to me, by Dean Winchester no less, hurt my pride. It hurt my pride good. "Yeah."

"Really?" Poppy said, picking up a spatula from behind the bar. "I'll handle this."

"Oooh shit," Trent said, eagerly following behind Jo who was following behind Poppy who was busy about to find Dean and slap him upside the head.

Little did they know, that wouldn't have worked. I tried.

"Poppy! Stop." I hobbled my way after them, trying to stop all forms of another fight from breaking out. I knew this would happen. I called it. Trying to get them to stop wasn't gonna happen. Once Poppy set her mind to something, it happened. And it was hard trying to assuage her passion. They thought she wouldn't get a degree, she proved them wrong. They thought she wouldn't make a good hunter, she proved them wrong. They thought she wouldn't be able to get a degree _and_ balance hunting (myself included), and she proved us wrong. She was just full of ambition.

I finally made my way into the back room of the bar where Poppy lead everyone. And the next few things I saw all happened so quickly that it were as if I was an audience member to a movie. A very bad movie that would've been nominated for countless Razzies, but a movie none the less.

On one side of the incredibly small back room, was a shirtless Dean Winchester, a wide eyed Sam, and an angry as fuck Ellen Harvelle. While Sam along with Ellen were busy trying to make out everything that was going on, Dean was already in a heated argument with Jo, Poppy, and Trent.

"What's with you women and spatulas? Newsflash, they're for making delicious food, not slapping someone!" Dean spat, standing from the chair he was seated in, giving me a full view of his naked chest. Man he had a damn good body. Abs just in all the right places. And then the way his loose fitting ripped jeans (eew, what grown man wears ripped jeans?) slouched against his well formed hips that made a V?, Yumsies. Dean was in tip topitty shape. Marine body. But I also noticed the three inch long stitches that made its way across one of his pecs. That was all me. I left my mark on him. When he took in the various bruises and scars he'd earned through hunting, the one over his heart belonged to yours truly. "And she started the fucking fight. What was I supposed to do?"

This was a three against one argument. Knowing how hard in the paint Trent was when it came to arguing, Dean didn't stand a chance against him. But Trent, Jo, and Poppy all together? Good Lord. I don't even know why Jo got into the middle of it. She was unnecessary. But Poppy, who surprisingly was the ring leader, kept a firm hand on the spatula she was wielding, making sure to pop Dean a good one if ever needed.

Why were hunters so drama prone?

"I dunno, Dean, how about stop fighting once you figured out she was a woman and the fight wasn't fair." Poppy rolled her eyes in disgust.

Dean raised his arms to the side innocently. But there was nothing innocent about those muscles. Shit, I'd come to realize that first hand. "I can only do but so much when someone refuses to stop trying to kick my ass. I got stitches, a busted lip, a can to the head, and maybe a black eye because of her. And you're trying to blame me for this? Fuck that."

All this yelling was doing nothing for my head. I was too busy leaning against a wall, trying to stop the room from spinning than stop the fight.

"Apologize, Dean!"

"Not a chance."

"I'm serious!"

"Not until she does first. She started it."

"Ugh!" Poppy threw the spatula at him, just barely missing his face. "You're unbelievable you know that? Absolutely unbelievable. You have zero compassion, Dean Winchester, and I'm done. We're sick of your shit."

"Sick of my shit?" Dean said, half laughing. "What did I do?"

"The way I see it is this," Trent's voice yelled louder than everyone else in the room and simultaneously everyone quieted down to listen to him. "The way I see it is this, either you can apologize to my girl over here, or I can finish what she started and give you a down South ass beatin' in this bitch. Now try me."

Someone was gonna die. Case closed. If Trent was gonna fight somebody it was going to be to the death. Once he got started, it was nearly impossible to calm him down. There were no truces or no pauses. The fight was over when someone was seriously hurt.

And then came Sam to his brother's defense. "You're not gonna touch my brother."

Well, now came my part. If they were gonna brawl, and Sam thought it'd be two against one, they were sadly mistaken. I'd have to fight through my pain and fuck someone up. "Sorry, Sammy, but if you think you're gonna lay a finger on Trent, you're out of your mind."

"Don't call me Sammy." His response was low and serious and made me want to say it twelve more times. He wouldn't have done anything.

But Trent cut me off before I had the chance. "Shut yo tall ass up when grown folks is talking."

"Don't speak to him like that." Dean pointed a finger at Trent.

"Ohhhhh, so we wanna point fingersss?" Trent smiled and I saw his hands balling into fists.

This was it. Showtime.

I was going for Sam.

And I wasn't in the mood to fight nicely.

"HEY!" The loud booming voice of Ellen screamed, snapping all of our attention to her.

We were all gonna get it. Ellen didn't play that shit.

"Now all of you stop acting like your goddamn children. And speaking of children, Joanna Beth, why aren't you working right now? And speaking of working,Poppy, get back to pouring drinks. And speaking of drinks, Trent and Sam, y'all go and get a beer or somethin'. Or I swear to God I'll kill you all myself."

All grumbling under their breath, everyone Ellen called out left the small office. Leaving just Ellen, Dean, and myself to stay in there. Shouldn't Dean have left too? He wasn't needed.

"And as for you, Angie, what's wrong? Just finished stitching up Dean. What can I do ya for?"

Wasn't it obvious? Tell me if something was wrong with me.

"I may need my arm stitched up. I have splinters galore in my back. Like Dean I might have black eye and a busted lip. And I have a concussion."

"Glad to see I ain't the only one all banged up," Dean mumbled under his breath as if I wouldn't hear him. Ellen had already punished him before I could, slapping him against the head. It was hard too.

"You think you gotta concussion huh?" Ellen moved over to my side, inspecting my head.

"Yeah. My head is killing me, I'm dizzy, and I'm floating in and out of consciousness." Though I now found the urge to rap Drake lyrics. Sadly now wasn't the time nor the place to rap his lyrics. "Ouch! Shit."

"Sorry." Ellen moved her hand away from my head after touching what was probably a large bump. "Yeah, you're concussed alright."

Okay. Now I had a reason to take hella meds and sleep all day.

"Take your shirt off."

Ellen was losing her mind.

"Huh?"

"I gotta see your back and your arm. Come on, quit your babying and take your shirt off. Dean avert your eyes."

I could see Dean snickering, thinking that I was probably the biggest chicken in the world. I hadn't been shirtless in front of a guy in years. And plus, I'd just gotten through fighting this guy and now he was gonna see Jigglypuff and Squirtle? Now way.

But this all came down to being what people thought was a good hunter. If I were to complain, Dean would've thought less of me and thought I was weak. If I just went through with this, I'd forever be deemed a boss.

Dean's eyes grew ten times their size as I removed my white tee, exposing everything to him. Thank God I decided to wear a cute bra today. Normally all of shit was chintzy and haggard because new clothes were a luxury.

I tried so hard to make Dean think that I wasn't even noticing him stare at me as Ellen looked at my wounds. But still, a bit of anxiety made it's way into me. Men were all the same. Dean was probably thinking about how my boobs compared to the boobs of every other girl he's seen. And no, I wasn't that cocky to think that mine were the best. But I was working with something. A D-cup wasn't bad at all. Plus they were all real.

Ellen, took a step backwards, tossing my shirt back at me. "Well the good news is, you don't need stitches. Bad news, you've got a lot of wood in you."

That line prompted Dean to crack up in a fit of laughter. Which persisted for a little bit until he caught the glares Ellen and I were giving him. "What? A lot of wood in you? Come on, that's hilarious."

"Glad you find my situation funny," I said, casting him another glare before sliding back on my dirty white tee.

If a white tee is dirty, do you still call it a white tee? Cause technically it ain't white no more.

"I'll be back in a few to dig the wood out of you." Ellen moved towards the door and I was happy to see that Dean didn't crack anymore smiles at my expense. "But during that time, I want you two to be in here apologizing to each other. I don't care if you want to or not. And if I come back and one of you aren't in here, you'll both have to deal with me. Got it?"

"Got it." I nodded.

"Yes ma'am," Dean said like a good little soldier.

"Good. Now start making up."

Ellen left the room, leaving it just to myself and Dean. And for the first few minutes after her departure, the room was terribly quiet. Dean didn't feel like saying much and I wasn't too fond of the thought of having a conversation with the same man who was the reason for my pain. There was nothing for us to say. What happened happened and that was it. Even if I was actually sorry about hurting him.

A little bit.

I should've known he was a hunter. He didn't deserve to get hit.

But I couldn't be the first to speak. I just couldn't. That showed weakness and I was no where near weaker than Dean. Nope. No way. No how.

I caved.

"I'm sorry for kicking your ass alright?" I blurted out, sitting on the desk in front of the leather couch Dean had moved to.

He didn't bother to even pretend to accept my half assed apology. But seriously, it was somewhat sincere. "And I'm sorry for being the cause of all that wood in you."

"And I'm sorry for knocking you upside the head with a can of Spaghetti O's."

"And I'm sorry for being the first man you've had on top of you in years."

How'd he know that? Was it that obvious?

"Dirty joke after dirty joke, how lame can you be?"

Dean wasn't fazed by my weak insult at all. In fact, he flashed me a grin that had me wanting to gouge my eyes out. "Lame enough to have you pulling my hair and panting in my ear."

"We weren't banging, we were fighting."

"Who says banging? How old are you?" he scoffed, making me feel a bit silly for using that term. "Either way, I bet you wish it were the opposite."

Gross. Not. Dean may have been a hot piece of ass, there was no denying that, but he wasn't my type. Not anywhere near my type. "Not after seeing how long you lasted just fighting. Do the words 'minute man' ring any bells, Deano?"

"Do you want me to prove you wrong? There's a motel a few miles outside of this place and I have a few hours to spare."

What type of corny line was he spitting at me right now? He wanted to play this game, then fine, we'd play. But I was amping it up though. "We don't need a motel, how's the bathroom stall sound?"

"Sounds perfect."

What? "Great."

"So when Ellen comes back and fixes you up, you'll meet me in the bathroom stall?"

No. I don't wanna do that. Grosssssss. "Sure thing."

"Well then all we have to do now is wait."

Oh God I was in trouble. "Yup."

How did a snarky conversation with Dean turn into him and I setting up the whereabouts for us fucking? Where did that even come from? And he was dead serious too. This had to have been his kind of thing. Pick up some trash from the bar and have his way with her. But since when did that trash become me? And why didn't I say no to it? I wasn't ready for this. My mouth had gotten me into some serious shit sometimes but this was by far one of the worst.

What did I just get myself into?

**. . .**

**Pssh. Angie talks too much. She wrote a check her ass can't cash. Don't think Dean would mind though.**

**So is Angie going through with this or not? Tell me what you think.**

**And once again, Poppy is not my character, she's the character Melanie-Bakie requested since she was the only one to answer my peanut question.**

**Annnd, next chapter may be from Dean's point of view. Though it will be in third person for sure. Unless you all have qualms with me switching perspectives. Or if you all don't want a few chapters here and there from the brother's perspective then tell me in a review. Y'all already know I live to please.**

**And how cute are Angie's names for her tits? She's a nerd. I know Angie and I aren't the only ones who nickname our girls. As ratchet as that may be...**

**Until next time.**


	4. Joker & the Thief

**Back with another chapter y'all! This one was quite difficult for me to write considering this is in Dean's POV. My characterizations of the Winchesters aren't where I'd like them right now and are nowhere near spot on so I apologize. I did have fun writing it and I hope you have fun reading it. **

**Let's see how the deal between Angie and Dean plays out. **

**And Poppy ain't mine. She's Melanie-Bakers. Check her page out suckahs!**

**Melanie-Baker: Lol. If you want to write a Poppy story I say go for it. I'd read it. And I'm sure everyone else would too. And I'm sad to say that the situation between Dean and Angie ends a little lackluster. Boo. **

**SPN Mum: I can't wait to get to the part where Angie acts naturally around each brother. Her relationship with each is going to be a lot different. I don't know who I like writing her with more. Her and Sam are just goofballs. Her and Dean got that love hate thing going on. Which one do you like more? **

**Nymartian: Dean just isn't the type of guy Angie would normally go for I guess. Shit, I don't know how she does it. I'd make it my duty to get Dean. **

**Chapter 4 - Joker & the Thief**

**Dean Winchester POV**

**. . . **

It had been only a few hours since Dean had become acquainted with Angie and he'd already learned some valuable pieces of information about her. Actually, he learned a lot. But there were a few things that popped out as he eyed her sitting on the edge of the wooden desk, fiddling her thumbs.

The first was that she had great taste in snacks. Never had Dean been so excited to see the bagfuls of fattening treats Sam had brought back. Sam was typically the worst person to send on a snack run. His preferences just weren't up to his older brother's standards so it didn't come as much as a shocker to learn that Sammy wasn't even the one who picked 'em out. He owed her. Dean hadn't had an Oatmeal Cream Pie in a loooooong time. Unless you counted the Asian barmaid he picked up a week ago. She was Japanese... or was it Korean? Fuck, they were all the same to him anyway. And hella kinky.

The second was that she listened to the worst kind of music. Rap? Could you get more mainstream and idiotic?

The third was that she could pack one hell of a punch. But he didn't want to think about that. His jaw still hurt and he felt kind of bad for fighting her. She was a woman and regardless of the situation, Dean had learned to never hit a woman. Would he beat the living shit outta demon possessing a woman? He wouldn't think twice about it, but Angie was was one their side and him hurting her made him feel dirty. And not the good kind of dirty. The bad kind.

He almost wanted to give a sincere apology. Almost.

The last, and probably the most interesting detail he picked up on, was that Angie would do anything to maintain the image that she was a good hunter. He wanted to blame that on her being a little wet behind the ears but that couldn't have been it. She probably had been in the hunting business just as long and him and Sam had been. He guessed it was just because of her training and mentor. John had always taught him to not give a fuck about images and reputations. Hunters didn't need to care about what other hunters thought. That would cloud judgement and ultimately slow you down. Survival trumped opinions.

And Angie, boy did she screw up. Instead of just backing down to him, she tried to stand her ground and Dean just took complete advantage of her. She was nervous and scared and trying to find a way out of the deal she just made, Dean could tell. Every few breaths would be a bit shaky, she was playing nervously with her hands, and while she may have kept up eye contact with him, every now and then Dean could see her bite the inside of her full lips. He may have not been like Sam who could completely break down a person's body language, but he was surely getting there.

"Stop staring at me," she demanded, and the anger in her voice brought a smile to his lips.

He was going to enjoy bothering her.

"Oh don't get shy on me now. Pretty soon I'll be staring at the awesome rack of yours again. Only this time you won't have that sexy black bra on to conceal 'em." He was surprised she went as far as taking her shirt off in front of him. But he loved every second of it. Angie was the proud owner of a pair of healthy D's. Dean's favorite letter in the entire alphabet. And hers were natural too. God, almost every girl nowadays put silicone in their chest and Dean couldn't stand it. Well, it wasn't that he hated it, tits were tits and Dean loved tits, it was just that natural was better. And if they were big? Fucking pillows man. Pillows.

Angie rolled her tired eyes. It had been a long day for both of them he guessed. "No one's getting shy. I'm just sick of having to look at your ugly face."

If it was one thing Dean knew his face wasn't, it was ugly. He knew that, Angie knew that, the world knew that. "I'll make sure to fuck you from behind then."

A little vulgarity never hurt. Especially when Dean had no intentions of touching her. Not the slightest inkling. Was she cute? Yeah, she was really cute, but right now, she had traveled into Sam's territory and Dean would respect that. The way Sam talked about her after he came back from the gas station, and that weird silence everyone stood in while they were in the kitchen, Dean was pretty sure Sam wanted to hit that. And good for him. He wouldn't dare come in the way of Sam getting some. He was no cockblock. Even if Sam always was one to him, he wouldn't be so cruel.

"That's sweet of you to care." She faked a sugary tone, batting her eyelashes adoringly.

She'd have to step up her game to get under his skin.

"Just trying to make you come."

That's when a bit of the personality she'd been keeping at bay came out. She couldn't believe what he'd just said to her and her widening her cinnamon colored eyes was all the hints Dean needed. "WHAT?"

Not only could Angie not handle a bit of dirty talk, she was a goody goody. It was exactly what his brother needed. Giving a condescending little smile, Dean nodded. "I said that I'm just trying to make you comfortable. What'd you think I said?"

Dean watched as she sighed and trashed her old plans to act like a badass in front of him. The only bad ass here was him and she just realized her place.

Lifting herself from the desk, she moved over to him who didn't bother to make room for her. "Can we please not have sex?"

He laughed. That's usually the worst phrase to a guy. A real ball buster. But with Angie's sheer helplessness and how she was basically pleading to him, Dean couldn't prolong her torment. She was too sweet to go through this.

"You hit me a few good times. I think you gave me a real shiner." Jokes made everything better, and she gave a big smile before covering her mouth as she laughed. It was a laugh that made Dean's smile grow a little larger.

"I'm totally sorry about that, dude. But you know, I had to do what I had to do." Yeah, this was the girl she'd been hiding. This girl seemed like a total dork. Right up Sam's alley.

"Just wish it wasn't on me."

"Oh come on," she ran a hand through her mass of dyed blonde hair. It was too dark to be platinum and too light to be gold. Shit, what did Dean know about hair anyway. It was similar to Marilyn Monroe's. Dean would know since he'd could never get the poster of her he wanted. Probably because he never really had a bedroom to put it up in. And it was curly like hers too. Just longer. "You got me good. You see I'm the one with major splinters. Might need some Pinesol to polish my back. "

Thank God she was the type who could make fun of herself. He'd spent time with too many stuck up, up tight, women. She could be chill and joke around. Regardless of her jokes being terribly corny.

"You both alright in here or do I need to get my shotgun ready?" Ellen spoke, poking her head inside the door before fully walking in. Dean had forgotten she was coming back to check in on them and take care of Angie. Time seemed to fly by.

"Please, no more violence for tonight. We're good," Angie croaked, turning her gaze back to Dean who nodded.

"Yeah, it's like we're best friends."

"Bull." Ellen called them out on their shit. She was always a damn hard ass. Especially when it came to Dean.

"No seriously, we are. Look." Without any kind of warning or headsup, Angie threw her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. It somewhat shocked him how she just threw herself onto him. And he even ignored her bumping into his fresh pair of stitches to return the favor. He didn't want to be a creep, but he'd be lying to himself if he didn't take the time to feel her body in the process. She was toned from hunting obviously, but still kept that softness of a woman Dean just constantly seemed to crave. Soft and warm. A warmth that Dean found himself wanting to further press and nestle himself against. It was really fucking odd. He felt weird in her embrace. Safe? Was that the word? Of course not. Maybe. No. He just wasn't expecting it. To be hugged. Like really hugged. Not the hugs women gave him before he took them to a cheap motel and left in the middle of the night after giving a half ass lie about why he couldn't stay or after they drifted asleep, this was a genuine hug. He hadn't been hugged for no reason at all since he was a child. When his mom was still alive.

"Okay, enough with all the bullshit. Dean, get out. I've gotta patch Ang up." Ellen wanted Dean to pull away from this? That was just evil.

But he did. He forced himself off her and left without a word. Not a goodbye or anything. He just got up and left the room, entering the fully empty bar now. Well, it was empty with the exception of Sam, Poppy, and the one guy hunter that was Angie's partner. Dean didn't like that guy one bit. He was a douchebag.

"Is she alright?" both Sam and Angie's partner said in unison, eyeing each other down after noticing they'd said the same thing.

"Motherfucker she ain't your partner is she?" The guy spoke. What was his damn name? Dean didn't take the time to remember. He was rude as hell and had one hell of a chip on his shoulder.

"She's doing fine, Sam." Dean deliberately addressed Sam, knowing it would piss that guy off. Good. Dean was waiting to fight him. Dick.

The man waved him off, shoving passed him and intentionally knocking into his shoulder before heading into the back room to check on Angie. He was a punk too. He might've been gay but no man bumped into another man's shoulder to intimidate someone. That's what catty women did. Even Angie had balls and didn't do that.

"You two didn't kill each other in there did you?" Sam's took a swig on his water as Dean joined him at an isolated table away from the two girls. Dean knew what that meant. That was Sam's insecure way of asking if Dean to anything to embarrass him. Which he probably did, but would never allow Sam to know that. Didn't take much for Dean to embarrass him. It was why Sam had been so distant at college and never wanted him to show up. Dean always thought he was the cool older brother. Maybe he was wrong.

"I behaved, Sam." Dean turned to Poppy, giving her a exasperated look. "Pops, can you get me a beer please. It's one of those nights."

"Get it yourself, dick, I'm still mad at you." Poppy frowned, moving from behind the counter and heading out into the night air. Wow, Poppy was usually so sweet to him. He must've really screwed the pooch this time. No worries though. He'd give her ole' Winchester charm and they'd be back to normal in no time.

Shrugging away her rude comment, he turned back to his forlorn brother. He was giving off a pissy face and was watching the beats of water sweat slide down his glass. Yup, he knew this look all too well. Sammy was in deep thought. Deep thought about Angie.

Really, it was only half a day, he liked her that much already? God, that wasn't even possible. His brother was turning in to a wimp.

It was big brother to the rescue. "What do you want to know about her?"

"I'm not thinking about her, Dean." Sam's frown deepened and it made Dean a little sad too. He didn't want his bro feeling down.

"You've got it written all over your face. Man, you gotta let yourself feel one in a while. You're human." Especially since Jess died. Sam just hadn't been the same. He'd become hollow. Dean would never say it, and would never bring it up even if he somehow got possessed. Sam wasn't the fucking same anymore and that killed Dean. He was failing at making sure his brother was happy.

"I said I'm not thinking about her, Dean. Lay off it alright?"

Why was everyone snapping on him today? He ain't do shit to no one. "Well ain't this...what's the word? Shit... it's like when the outcome of something is the opposite of what you expected. Or like role reversals."

"Ironic," his brother helped him out, sounding like a robot. It made Dean feel like he was the biggest idiot in the world. Sam had a habit of doing that. Dean just didn't know it it was intentional or not.

Right now he wouldn't care. "Right. That. Normally it's you trying to pick away at my mind and hear me spill my feelings. And now it's me doing it to you."

"Funny," Sam said, still sounding like Mr. Roboto. What was Dean missing out on? Why was Sam so down over a girl?

He'd do anything to make it better. "She likes you."

Now that got his brother's attention. He perked his head up like a dog, now interested in what Dean had to say. "How'd you know?"

"She kind of told me." Dean lied. So what. He'd do it again if it meant making Sam happy. And it was harmless. Annnnnd, everyone already knew it was true. The two were gonna fuck. Dean just needed to give them a little push.

"Well how did she say it, Dean? Did you ask her? Did she tell you on her own? How did it happen?" Sam's words came out fast and almost jumbled together. Dean had to hold his hands up to put the brakes on Sam's freak out session.

Dammit. It was true what they said about lying. Tell one, you have to tell ten more to cover up that one.

It was time for Dean to think on his feet.

"After Angie and I got done apologizing she told me to apologize to you too. So I asked her why couldn't she do it herself and she reluctantly came out and said that it would be too awkward given everything that just happened and that she likes you."

Dean saw how Sam lit up like a fucking firework. Mission make-Sam-happy was accomplished. Now he didn't have to watch his brother mope and groan more than usual.

"But that doesn't even matter cause you know, I don't have any feelings for her or nothing. It's been a day."

Right Sam. Right. He was whipped over that blonde haired, odd skin complected girl. Was she black? Dean wanted to ask but since he was of the caucasian persuasion he didn't want to get called out as a racist. That wouldn't have been fun. She just...didn't look black.

Man... that sounded racist.

"I know that. Just wanted you to know she digs you."

"Goodnight everyone!" Angie sprang from out the back room, disposition of that of a cheerleader. Bright and rambunctious. He guessed Ellen did a really good job clearing the wood out of her. Damn that was still funny to him. "Where the hell did everyone go?" Her eyes scanned the room, taking in how only Sam and him were in there.

Dean waited for Sam to speak up. To at least say something to her. But his brother did nothing. Not a damn thing.

"Everyone left," Dean said, glaring over towards his brother. "Ain't that right, Sam."

He kicked the shit out of Sam's shin under the table to make sure he got the memo to speak up.

And Sammy took that kick like a champ. "Yup. Everyone's gone. Just us."

Angie began rocking on her heels. Dean knew what that meant. She was getting ancy and wanted Sam to make a move. COME ON SAMMY! BE A DAMN MAN!

"You know, you were right Sam. Angie does have pretty eyes."

Sam almost choked on his water and she lit up just like Sam had when Dean lied to him. If these two awkward assholes weren't gonna make a move on each other then dammit Dean would do it.

"Did he really?" She gave a great big smile. Like sunshine or some shit.

"Sammy?" Dean glanced at his brother who was recuperating from his choking session.

"Um...yeah," he said between coughs. "You're eyes are really pretty."

Her panties would be coming off tonight! Dean would see to it that they would.

She took in a breath. "And you know what, Sam, your hair is motherfuckin' awesome."

Really? His hair? Dean didn't think much of Sam's girly hair. It was his hair that was sexy. Many of girls would line up just to grab at it. But hey, a compliment was a compliment he guessed.

And Sam took the compliment like a twelve year old boy coming across his first playboy. Like a damn fool.

He was a disappointment. A disgrace.

"Time to go." Angie's partner finally came out of the back room along with Ellen, nudging Angie to follow him as he moved over to the back door. No! That wasn't supposed to happen. Not before the sex! This wasn't going according to Dean's plan!

"WAIT!" Dean damn near had to shout to get their attention. "How about we all have a meal together. On me. You know, to clear the tension."

"We don't want to break bread with you. The fuck is this, the last supper?" Fuck Angie's partner. He had an knockout coming to him soon enough.

"Trent, be cool." Angie tried soothing Trent's anger. Yeah right. Trent was just an angry guy. "Guys, we really do have to hit the road. It was great seeing you though. The both of you. Got a chance to finally meet the infamous Winchersters. Sam and Dean."

"Infamous my black ass. We outtie. Thank you so much Ellen." Trent gave Ellen an appreciative hug before heading out. Strangely enough though, Angie didn't follow him just yet. She stayed and Dean waited for her to say something.

"Raincheck on the dinner, okay, Sam."

Dean smirked. She directed that to Sam. As in her and Sam eat together. Alone. Like a date. His brother just got asked out.

"Sure thing." was Sam's response.

She pointed a finger at him. "I'm holding you to it."

"I'm a man of my word."

With a nod, she left out and gave Sam ample amounts of time to process what just happened. Yeah, Dean was sure his mind was racing. Going into overload.

"Did she just ask me out, Dean?"

"Look at my baby brother getting asked out. Pretty soon you'll be getting more girls than me." Pssh, that would never happen.

Sam shook his head, probably riding himself of those things every human should allow themselves to experience. Like lust and all that shit. "So do you want to head back to a hotel or back to Duke?"

Dean couldn't believe Sam was still willing to drive back to Duke. That was because Sam wasn't the one driving. Dean was exhausted. "I'm beat."

"Motel it is."

The two got up, and it was as if it was on cue, the sound of a very familiar car engine roared to life. Dean knew that engine. He knew that purr intimately. Inside and out. Would be able to put a blindfold on and distinguish that particular engine from out of an entire parking lots worth of cars. He fucking installed that engine. That was the sound his pride and joy, his baby made.

"Dean was that the impala?" Sam asked, obviously noting how similar the sound the car made was to their very own. That wasn't the sound a Hummer made.

"I think-"

Dean's sentence was cut off by an even louder car starting. _That_, was the sound a Hummer made.

In a hurried panic, Dean began patting down his worn leather jacket, checking his breast pocket for where he knew he last left the keys. They weren't fucking there anymore. He was sure they were there a second ago. What happened to...Angie. She took them. When she hugged him. She pickpocketed him and stole his keys. That's why she was acting so nice! She stole his goddamn child.

This was kidnap!

She wasn't going to get away with this.

Dean was finding her, that bitch Trent, and his impala.

He was going to rescue his baby.

He slammed his fist down hard onto the bar top, blood boiling and blood pressure rising. "Son of a BITCH!"

** . . . **

**I looove how blind Dean is when it comes to people's feelings. He has no idea how to console anyone. **

**And if you all still don't really know who Angie is, that's okay because I kind of wanted it to be that way. It's who she is as a hunter. She doesn't let people in and what she wants to do versus what she does are two different things. She'll have to shed those walls. **

**You all probably think Trent is an unlovable asshole. I love Trent though. He's a bitch and a half. **

**Give me some feedback to let me know what I'm doing right, what I'm doing wrong, and what you want to see. **

**Until Next Time. **


	5. Lies

**Thank you all for to those who read and reviewed. I do apologize for this chapter. It's not the greatest. But I can't wait for next chapter. Read and you'll find out why.**

**Chapter 5 - Lies**

** . . . **

I showed that Dean. I showed him good. He thought I was nervous? Well yeah, he was right. I was terribly scared that I may have had to actually follow through with the deal he and I made. But oh God did he underestimate me. He thought that I was weaker than him and he was the dominate one. He thought that he had me right where he wanted me and I had no chance of escape. But I did. Not only did I escape but I stole his precious car and identity in the process. I'd call that a win.

Rule #9 - Never underestimate your opponent.

I may get flustered from time to time and say things I didn't mean, but one thing I was, was resourceful. And being resourceful was always handy dandy. Pair that with being a pickpocketer who has a love for acting and you've got yourself a hell of a combination. You got Angie Anderson. Plus, growing up in the projects of Chicago helped too. Being poor taught me how to adapt and capitalize on opportunities. To seize the moment. That's exactly what I did and Dean never saw it coming. He probably was venting and fuming right now. Yeah! And so the score was tied and the ball was in my court. That'll teach him not to mess with the best.

"And party! And bullshit! And party! And party!" Trent sang the lyrics to some Rita Ora song, dancing around college sorority girls. His body grind and swayed to the uptempo pop song, his left arm flailing while his right made sure to prevent any of his Sex on a Beach from spilling. He was slowly but surely getting drunk. And you never knew who you were getting when Trent was drunk. Every time he was a different person. He singlehandedly manage to be every drunk stereotype there was. Sometimes he was angry, sometimes he was loud, sometimes he was horny, but tonight he was being a goofy drunk who wanted to... do just as the song said. Party and bullshit.

I on the other hand was sitting on a nice comfy couch, looking like a fool. Wasn't in the partying mood I guess.

It's just that I kind of felt badly in regards to Sam. I didn't want to have to take my anger towards Dean out on him but it was inevitable. They were a pair. If you wanted one you got the other too. Two for the price of one. So if I wanted to get back at Dean for being lewd and obnoxious, that meant having to bring Sam into it. Now they were both out of a car. And a nice one at that. A chevy. My daddy owned one. Though his didn't compare to the one Dean got. This one drove smooth and was a real work of art. Eh, what did I know. I didn't understand a thing about cars no matter how much my daddy tried to teach me about them. All I could say was that Dean had good taste. Too bad it was mine. Well, for now. They'd fine me soon enough. It'd been a few days so I guess they'd find me either tonight or tomorrow. When they did, I'd be ready. Especially for that damn Dean. He'd be the pissed one.

"Angie! Come on and dance with me!" Trent drawled, swinging and moving his body over in my direction, beckoning me forward with his hand.

I shook my head. As much fun as Trent was having, I didn't feel right being a part of it. Had this been any other time, yeah, I may have danced with him. But a storm was coming and it was coming soon. I had to mentally prepare myself.

"I'm good."

"These white bitches can't dance like you! Come oooooooooooooon!" Normally I'd cringe at Trent's usage of the term "white bitch" and call him out for being wrong, but I'd come to learn that that was just Trent. Everyone was a bitch. Black bitch. White bitch. Asian bitch. It didn't matter. That was a part of his schtick and it grew on me. He was a big bundle of sass and attitude and I loved it. But still, not everyone could handle his abrasive ways and he ain't seem to care. Not a bit.

"Trent, we're not here to actually party!" We came here to probe and ask these girls questions surrounding Giselle's death. Liquor and loose girls always equaled them spilling secrets. Especially since these girls couldn't hold their alcohol. But even while we were asking them about Giselle, they seemed to not really know anything about her. We got nowhere and as soon as Trent realized that, he took advantage of the moment and thought it'd be a perfect time to party. Getting just as loose as the girls around him became his top priority.

I was gonna have to stop him from doing something crazy soon enough.

"Loosen the fuck up, girl. And stop thinking about Sam; that tall ass fool."

"I'm not thinking about-"

The sound of three loud knocks stole away my attention. They had to be loud for me to hear it over the screeching of college girls and the music that was blaring. Those knocks... those knocks were a forewarning and something in my mind let me know exactly the people who were behind the door.

Dean and Sam Winchester.

"Trent, I'll dance with you in a minute," I said, saying anything to get him out of the way. I didn't want him to answer the door with me because seeing their faces would only prompt him to turn into an angry drunk. And I didn't need that right now.

He nodded, getting swept away by the sea of dancing women and resumed his partying. Determination spreading throughout me, I got up, heading over to where the repetitive knocks came from. This was it. Here they were. They'd found me. Something told me that this was them and these hunter senses were almost always accurate. I just had to play this one the right way. I had to do this right. I wasn't expecting them to find me here but hey, it was gonna happen anyway.

Let's do this.

I swung the door open, a fake friendly smile plastered on my face, readying to confront them. And sure enough, there stood the two boys. Double trouble.

Sam was the first one I noticed. I mean, how could you not? Sam was fineeeeeeeeee. I'm talking fine fine. Like, he had a girl going through some things. That hair, his fucking hair was just the sex, dude. Have you ever just met someone who's hair was perfect in every way imaginable. I just wanted to touch it. Just once.

Eww. That sounded gross.

Even his awkward grin was heartwarming. Ugh, what wasn't heartwarming about him. I got giddy every time I saw him. He wasn't human. I was under a spell. A Sam Winchester spell.

And then there was Dean, the shorter older brother with a stank attitude. I mean, he was good lookin' 'n all, but something about him rubbed me the wrong way. Something was up with him. He didn't even try to fake a happy appearance. And that's the least he could've done. He just looked pissed as hell, a tight scowl was settling on his mouth. Along with his fists clenching. Oh what, he wanted to start round two? Well then fine, we could start round two.

"Boys, hi," I greeted, a faux cheeriness in my voice that could've rivaled any of these sorority girls. Had I had a chance to go to college and major in acting like what I always dreamed of, I would've been in a sorority too. Except these girls looked kind of skanky. Maybe I wouldn't. "Now you two aren't following us are you? This is like the third time we've ran into each other."

"We were just in the neighborhood, trying to piece together what killed Giselle." Sam whispered the last part. Didn't want anyone to hear that now did we? "We thought I'd be a good idea to check here. We had no idea you and Trent took this place."

That was a lie. We all knew it. And the tension between us all was almost as humorous as Dean's anger.

"You didn't? You knew Trent and I were on this one so you all don't have to bother with it. You two can head on two states over. Poltergeist case there."

Sam began to say something but it all turned into a sigh. He rephrased his original sentence. "Do you mind if we come inside to talk?"

"Can't. Girls only party."

"Then how did Trent get in?"

Dean finally spoke. "Haven't you seen him? Technically he's a girl, Sammy. They both love dick."

"That's the first and last time you make fun of Trent's sexuality." Another reason why I couldn't give Dean a clean slate. He was incredibly close minded and a real asshole. "He got in because he convinced them that every girl needs a gay best friend."

Sam nodded. "Okay well, do you mind coming out here, we kind of have some things we need to discuss."

"Like what?"

"Fuck this, Sammy. We tried your "civilized" plan and it's shit. Time for option B," Dean snapped, anger shining in his greenish hazel eyes. "Where the hell is my car, Angie?"

Time to play this one like a dumb blonde. "Car? What car? I don't even know what your car looks like."

"It looks exactly like the one you stole!"

"I didn't steal anything. And for you to insinuate that I did is pretty fucking low of you. We made up remember? We hugged it out."

"Hand them over."

I looked to Sam with wide eyes. "Can you get him please? I didn't do anything."

Sam let out another uneasy sigh before shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Angie but all signs point to you. The car left when you did and you could've easily have taken it from Dean when you hugged him. You're the only one we can think of."

"So since you guys are shit at investigating, that means I'm to blame."

"No, because you're a lying little bit-"

"Dean," Sam cut him off before he said something he'd truly regret. Had he finished that sentence he'd never see those keys. Sam must've known that. "Angie, if you could tell us who you saw in the parking lot then when you left that would be great."

Sam must've been the one who usually got the answers when investigating. He seemed like he knew how to communicate a lot better than his brother. Dean couldn't have an intelligent conversation if it killed him.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever I can do to help," I smiled, before looking over my shoulder to yell at the partiers behind me who still hadn't noticed Sam and Dean. "Girls, I'd like you all to meet my boyfriend, Sam. He's coming in for a bit."

Not one of them paid attention to me. God, were they really that drunk and horny...

Wait. What was one thing all horny college girls loved.

Plan fuck-with-Dean was coming together nicely. "GIRLS!" Me screaming that got their attention. "The stripper's here!"

I didn't even get the chance to move out of the way before these girls had attack Dean like their were in heat. They moved in a stampede. A damn elephant herd. These weren't no damn big eared cute elephants either. These were rabid hyenas. They were out for blood. If it weren't for Sam pulling me to the side before they grabbed Dean and mangled the poor guy, I would've been trampled. And they didn't even care that I wasn't inside the frat house anymore. Once they caught Dean they slammed the door in my face and didn't look back.

Now I was outside, being held protectively in the arms of Sam who had almost been a casualty in their horny war too.

"What the hell was that?" I breathed, looking back at how Dean had just disappeared. It all happened so quickly.

Sam seemed to be just as bewildered as I was. "I'm not sure."

"They were vicious."

He chuckled. "Yeah they were."

"I almost died."

"Yeah you did."

"And you saved me."

"It's all a part of the job."

That was funny. I forgot Sam was the one with the sense of humor and not Dean. Well, Dean had a sense of humor, just wasn't anything suitable for my tastes. And I also forgot that the last time we were alone we had no idea about each other's ghost hunting careers and everything was easy flowing and organic. But now, we were a bit cautious of each other. Or at least I was. I didn't know about Sam. I couldn't let him see that same girl in the Gas Station. I just couldn't. That wasn't how a hunter acted. Hunters were tough and hardasses. Like Dean, he oozed hunter. Sam didn't seem like that and even if he didn't I wasn't going to break my walls down just for him. He got a glimpse at me being myself and that was enough. No more.

"You know, you can let go of me." I smiled, realizing that I was still in Sam's arms and somehow I didn't care. He wasn't wearing nearly as many layers as what I'd seen him in and I felt his body. Mhm, Sam was a man alright. But... Hunter Angie couldn't let him know she was thinking things like this. Hunter Angie had to be aloof.

"Oh yeah, sure." Sam immediately removed himself from me, backing up a few feet.

No don't back up. Stay. Come back over to the darkside, Sam. The cookies here are delicious.

"You have me for five minutes starting... now" I took a breath readying to cover up me stealing Dean's car. "When we went outside there were three men. Two of them looked like bikers, the other one was ridiculously drunk and tried to ask me for my number. None of them looked like thieves." Though that was the truth, it was aiding me in a big ole lie.

"So um... you don't think any of them stole Dean's car."

Nope. But I did. "No."

He nodded. "And you're sure those were the only people you saw?"

"Just come out and say it, Sam, you think I took the car."

"I don't think you took it. I think Trent did when he bumped into Dean. I also think you're just a really good liar."

Good job Trent for knocking into Dean. Took the scent off me for one of the brothers.

"What have I done to make you think I'm a liar?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "The act you put on at the gas station was enough for me."

Ouch. And that wasn't even an act. "Wow, I just got told off by a grown man with Bieber hair." Pssh, his hair was twenty times better than the Biebs. And I was dying to touch it.

"And I'm not sure who I'm getting told off by." That was another dig at my personality shifting after I figured out he was a hunter. "I think you should get your personality disorder checked out."

This just in, this is breaking news y'all, all Winchesters are royal fucking assholes.

"I'm sooo sorry to disappoint you, lover boy."

"You're terrible at putting up that front you know that?"

I was not!

"And you already let me in. So now I know how you really are."

Yeah, and vice versa!

"Which is why I'm not acting weirdly and trying to act like a hard ass."

I wasn't acting weirdly!

"Yeah, yeah you are."

I wasn't talking aloud was I? How'd he know exactly what I was thinking.

"Body language, plus you're easy to read. For me at least."

That just meant I wasn't doing my job well enough. Time to crank the acting kills up to eleven. See how well you can read me now!

Folding my arms over my chest, I smacked my lips. "I know you didn't drive all the way over here to waste both our time. Now that you're done playing Dr. Phil and trying to find your brother's lost car, you're gonna leave right?"

"I actually have another minute, but you know what since you're counting."

"And you know it's really a minute and five seconds, but hey, let's not get anal about things."

He shook his finger at me, dimpled smile showing. "You know, I almost believed you that time."

"You know, it's time for you to leave me the fuck alone."

I could've sworn I saw him glaring at me. Don't fucking glare at me, I ain't do nothing. "Fine. But know that we'll follow you until we find Dean's car."

"I'm telling you, I don't know where the impala is." NOOOOOOOooooo! I slipped. I fucking slipped. Just earlier I had said I didn't know what Dean's car looked like and now I was saying it was an impala. Dammit. Sam's glare flustered me along with our miniature fight. Crap. And he noticed too. The way he was looking at me all yeah-you-fucked-up let me know. And he was smirking at me. "Well, the cat's out of the bag now. I have Dean's car. Whoopty freakin' doo."

"I knew it."

"Did not."

"Did so. Just lied to make you feel better. Now hand over the keys, please."

Never! "Nope."

"I know Dean can be a little...hard to like-"

"Yeah."

"-But he grows on you after a while. He doesn't mean anything by it. Kind of like Trent."

Wow... he was exactly like Trent in that regard. First impression of them were that they were real dickheads. But after talking to Trent and getting to know him, I learned he was a lovable guy. Dean couldn't have been like that. Just couldn't have been. He was obnoxious and loud and douchey and just a pain in the ass.

Oh my God, he was the straight version of Trent.

"I'd like an apology from him. He tried to sleep with me."

"He what?!" Sam somewhat sort of screamed. Maybe Dean ain't tell him that part. "I'm really sorry about that."

"I don't want your apology. I want your brother's."

"I'm gonna deal with him later. But as for him saying sorry, he'd never do that."

"He will if he wants his car."

"Come on, what else can we do to get your keys back."

The answer flew out of my mouth before I even had a chance to think. "You can take me out to dinner."

Oh my God, why did I say that. That wasn't like me to be that forward. I was gonna kill myself as soon as he left. Yup, it was all over now. I really had just embarrassed myself. My sweaty palms and butterflying stomach indicated that.

I had to regain control of the situation. "You both promised me dinner at the Roadhouse remember? And I know this diner a few minutes outside of campus. So yeah..."

"I think I can manage dinner with you Angie."

Sweet Jesus he accepted. And now all was right in the universe! Wait until Trent heard this news.

But there was still a question to ask. "Should I pick you up, since you're out of a car and I kind of have yours."

"I'll meet you there. If Dean sees you in his car, he'll freak."

"I'll see you there then." I couldn't control my goofy grin. I hadn't been on a date in maybe five years.

And now, I was going on one tomorrow. With Sam Winchester.

Oh boy, I was in trouble.

**. . . **

**Angie's got a date! Angie's got a date! Sam's got one too! Sam's got one too! **

**Yeah for that! **

**And Dean got manhandled by some women. And Trent was there for it too. Wonder how that went? **

**See ya next update. **

**Oh, and for the date, who's POV. Sam's or Angies?**


	6. Date Night

**Sam and Angie are two awkward dorks. **

**Chapter 6 – Date Night **

**. . . **

**Sam's POV**

There were three hundred napkins in the dispenser.

Sixty-eight different songs to choose from in the Jukebox.

Twenty different entrees on the menu that each sounded equally disgusting.

Twelve adults and two children in the relatively small diner.

And five minutes until Angie was supposed to meet Sam for their date. Which could also be looked at as another five minutes that Sam still had to cooly scoot out from the booth he was sitting in (Dean told him that women loved booths), walk out of the diner, and make a run for it back to the motel where he'd be safe and sound. He was nervous, actually nervous, of a simple and harmless date. Could he battle demons and ghosts without a shred of fear poking at him? Sure, that was no problem. But something as normal as a date, something everyone in the damn universe experiences, that had him petrified.

The last date he'd been on was with Jess... and his first date with her had him just as nervous as he was now. It shouldn't have been. He should've been more relaxed now. Jess had no idea of the monsters he tried to keep at bay. She only knew College Sam. Studious Sam. Nerdy, book smart Sam. Angie had been through probably just as much hell as he had so he didn't have to keep that part of him a secret. While Jess only knew a portion of him, Angie could know the whole one hundred percent.

Yeah, that was terrifying.

"You want anything to drink, sweetie?" the pretty waitress said, and Sam noticed how she poked her hip out slightly more and sucked her stomach in to make her look especially skinny.

Third time she came by to check up on him within the ten minutes he'd been here. Third time she tried getting his attention with her not so subtle flirting. Third time he'd have to let her down.

"Uh no. I'm fine. Just waiting on someone."

She couldn't hide her quick eye roll from him. "She must be pretty important to let someone like you wait."

Forgetting what her name was, he took a quick peek at her name tag, couldn't look too hard because she might take that as him trying to stare at her chest. "Yeah. Really important. Thank you though, Mercedes."

Mercedes gave a wide smile, twisting around with a pep in her step and left Sam be. She was young. A college student. Probably went to Duke. Had he been in hunter mode he would've questioned her about Giselle's death, but no, there wasn't time for him to think about stuff like that. Not with everything Dean told him to do.

One - Be confident but not douchey.

Two - Be sexy but not cheesy. There's a fine line between the two. And it was funny, Sam always thought Dean came across as the latter. The women his older brother always left with proved that theory wrong though. But to be fair, Dean always slept with girls who were... how could he put this nicely... intellectually challenged.

Three - Pretend to listen to what they have to say. Girls dig dudes who listen. Why couldn't Sam genuinely listen? Maybe Dean would find it wimpy if Sam said he didn't have a problem listening to a woman talk about her day.

Dean also gave him a ton of corny pick up lines to use. They were all bad. Like really bad. Sam had come to the conclusion that Dean was stuck in the eighties because pick up lines were a thing of the past. Or so he thought.

Did girls have to go through this? To worry about not coming off as a domineering jackass all while trying to be cool and confident? What if something got stuck in his teeth? What if the waitress continued to flirt with him even while Angie was around? Because woman had like this extra sense where they knew everything. What if he said something offensive? He stuck his foot in his mouth a lot. Was this a good time to talk about hunting? No. No hunting talk tonight. Tonight they'd be hunting free. He never allowed himself this kind of leisure time and since he did, he wasn't going to bring hunting into this. Especially since Angie had become virtually a different person after figuring out they shared the same fucked up job. Instead of being funny and cute, she became hardened and callous. He didn't want that tonight. He wanted to see the same sweet girl he met.

And once he saw her walking through the entrance door, he knew he wasn't going to get the sweet girl he met. And he damn sure wasn't getting the hunter.

Holy fuck, this girl was gorgeous. The girl Sam met at the Gas Station was just as pretty, but when someone's wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt, you can't really assess just how good looking they were. But it were as if the person he met then and the woman he was seeing now weren't the same. You would've never thought that this Angie killed demons and the paranormal for a living. How did she wind up here with him? This was the type of girl Dean would drool over and try to have. Tight dress, cleavage, curly hair bouncing while she looked for the table he was at, yeah, had Dean been here he would've done anything and everything to get her to go home with him. But she didn't like Dean to Sam's surprise. She didn't ask Dean out.

She liked Sam.

And was dressed this was for him. Just for him.

This was torture. And Sam knew about torture.

When she found where he was, the world's largest grin popped onto her face and she quickly maneuvered over to his side. How girls managed to walk in heels was mind boggling. Supernatural.

Taking a seat opposite him in the hollywood red vinyl booth. She stared at him happily with her almond shaped eyes that were too light to be brown and too dark to be hazel. "Hey you."

He gripped his jeans under the table. He could hear his brother now.

"_Get over it, Sammy!"_

"_Be a man, Sammy!"_

"_Bring me back damn some pie, Sammy!"_

"Hey," he replied back, trying to follow his brother's advice and be cool. Especially since Angie seemed so relaxed about things.

Ugh.

He was gonna throw up.

. . .

**Angie's POV**

I was gonna throw up.

Just hurl everywhere.

Then I could run off in embarrassment and not have to deal with this date. This was a stupid idea. A stupid idea created by a stupid girl. Why would I do this to myself. I had anxiety all day because of this and chickening out wasn't an option. Trent wouldn't let me.

And theeeeeen, I spent the entire day, I repeat, the entire day, shopping and trying on different outfits with Trent. He may have had one killer hangover, but once he caught wind of my date with Sam, he manned up and took me shopping. Then scolded me all day about not having a dress. But to be fair, I didn't need one. Sure, I had dresses that I had to use for hunting purposes, but just cute and casual dresses weren't a part of my wardrobe. I didn't need them. They weren't hunting friendly. A white tee or a wife beater, some sweat pants, and a pair of J's, that's how I rolled. Easy to maneuver in. Easy to throw away if blood got on them. What I had on now? A tight black dress, a blazer, and some heels that were hurting my feet already, this wasn't a normal Angie outfit.

You all wanna know what made it worse? We ended up buying the first outfit I'd picked out. And Trent argued me on everything. Then gave me rules to follow even though he wasn't a fucking girl. He said every girl followed these rules.

One - I had to be sexy but not too provocative. Provocative was slutty. Sexy made guy's minds wonder about how to get you out your clothes.

Two - Casual but not complacent. Don't make them feel nervous. They want to feel dominant and confident.

Three - Daring but not too out there. Boys like a girl with balls. Metaphorically speaking.

Four - Cute but not childish. How can you be cute and sexy at the same time? That was physically, mathematically, and theoretically impossible.

Did guys have to go through this? Like really, did they fret over what to wear on dates because they all dressed the same. Tee shirts and jeans. And Sam wouldn't have to worry about his hair because it was always gorgeous. But seriously? Did all girls have to try on tons of outfits, do different hairstyles, wax everything (and I mean everything. Places I didn't know were on my body) imaginable, cake on make up and paint your nails just for one guy you might not have chemistry with? Did guys even care? If I were one I wouldn't.

Hunting was easier than this. This was the worst job ever. Being a woman was fucking hard.

And so was walking like I was a Pussycat Doll over to Sam. Especially since a big ball of nerves was ricocheting around in my stomach like it was in a hardcore ping pong match. Confidence. That was the last thing Trent told me before he asked me to bring him back a doggy bag. Guys loved confidence. Confidence was a turn on.

But it wasn't like I was aiming to turn Sam on. Who even used the term 'turn on' anymore? That was so sixties. Dude, the sixties sucked. I would've hated to have been born then. Well, I guess it didn't really make a difference because I didn't have a childhood anyway. While most kids were watching Saturday Morning cartoons, I was out setting up my next hunt. The first self made kid hunter. And I was damn proud of that title.

Angie Anderson - Boogeyman hunter.

The fee - all the candy you had.

Shit, I was getting lost in my thoughts. Please God let Sam not have noticed. Focus, girl, focus!

"Hey you," I smiled, probably looking like a fucking freak as I sat down at the booth (thank God. I loved booths) across from him.

He returned a smile and those damn dimples he owed popped. "Hey."

Well fuck. He didn't seem the least bit nervous. I had to get over it.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

"Not at all, just got here," he said, voice overflowing with charisma and charm. Dammit, I had to have looked like a nerd. "You look beautiful by the way."

Don't squeal like a derp. Dont squeal like a derp. Don't squeal like a derp. "Thanks. I spent way too much time trying to pick out something to wear that I was worrying I'd be late."

What? NOOOOOOOO! Why did I fucking say that? I just blurted that right on out. Goddamn. I was the most awkward girl ever. Bella Swan awkward. Except, I didn't actually know anything about Twilight. I hadn't read a book that wasn't based on demonology in years. And I hadn't seen a movie since grade school. Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

Somehow, Sam didn't seem to notice. "You took that much time just to impress me? I'm flattered."

"I'm the one who should be flattered, you look great." Do not touch his hair Angie! That's weird. No matter how snuggly soft it seems.

"Thanks," he said, a little solemnly too. Christ, something was wrong. I did it. It was me. It had only been five minutes and I had scared this poor soul off. Well. I wasn't doing this again. "I can't do this."

Of course he couldn't. "Sam, really, it's fine. We don't have to continue this."

Except you owed me some money for getting dolled up for you.

"What?" His eyed bulged and he began shaking his head. "No. I can do the date. We're doing this even if it kills me. It's the pretending I can't do."

"Huh?"

He let out a cute tension filled sigh. "Don't tell me you're not going through the same thing I am. You put on this outfit, got shitty advice from Trent, and now you're here with me scared out of your mind."

...Well damn. He knew my dirty little secret. Okay. What would Trent tell me to do in this situation? Deny! He'd tell me to deny and deny I would.

"What? No. I'm not scared out of my mind, Sam, what would make you think... yeah I'm pretty much shitting myself right now."

He laughed. "Look. Let's start over. It's just you and me in a diner. We're not going to follow the bad advice our friends gave us, and we're not going to be nervous. It's Sam and Angie. Okay?"

And then the weight on my shoulders lifted and it was as if I could finally breath again. Sam was going through the same thing as me. He was just as nervous, just as scared, and just as in his head as I was. He sure did a great job of covering it up. Pssh, I probably looked a fool. "I can do that."

"Hi, I'm Mercedes your waitress for tonight, can I start you all off with some drinks."

I looked at Mercedes, noting how her body was positioned more in Sam's line of view. Hmm... she was pretty. Long brown hair, perfect olive complexion, nice white teeth. Something was up with her though. I felt it.

"Can I have a Sprite."

"One sprite for the lady," she said, jotting down my drink order. "And what can I get the gentleman?"

I ain't like how she said it. Nuh uh.

And Sam didn't play it cool either, glancing from me to her and doing this cough thing I noticed he did in tough spots. "Uh, can I have a coke?"

"You sure can," she smiled, voice as sweet as sugar. Containing my half laugh, half snarl was going to be hard. "I'll have your drinks back in a jiffy."

As soon as Mercedes left from hearing distance, I knew I couldn't contain poking fun at Sam. It was too funny.

"Your girlfriend doesn't seem to like me."

"Come on, she was just being nice."

"She sure was," I mocked her sweet tone. "Hey, I'm not mad. Who wouldn't want to go out with the magnificent Sam Winchester?"

Seriously, I bet he had girls always throwing themselves at him. Which must've pissed Dean off because what girl in their right mind would like him? Yuck.

"I see you traded South Park pajama pants for a dress." So it was his turn to make fun of me? Okay. I see how it is Mr. Winchester.

I could make light of myself. No problem. "Yeah, just threw this on and left. What'd you think about it? I clean up nicely huh?"

He inhaled deeply and I never heard him exhale. "Kind of miss the pants," he finally sighed, voice low and it was under his breath. He wanted me to listen all while making it seem like he didn't want me to hear.

"Ouch, Sam, ouch."

He gave a playful shrug. "They were really awesome."

"I'll be sure to wear them around you then."

"I haven't even gotten my food yet and already you're planning on seeing me again."

"What can I say, I like you." Damn me and my big mouth. I always just blurt things out. I needed to get that under control. It would be the death of me.

There was a pause. Short enough for it not to be awkward, long enough for me to notice.

Sam didn't seem to care about it. Instead, he opted to make me a happy happy camper.

"Likewise."

You see. This wasn't supposed to happen. We were supposed to have a terrible time and solidify why hunters and normality didn't mix. Hunters didn't date. This wasn't right. Someone was out there probably getting killed by a demon, and I'm having a date when I'm supposed to be protecting them.

Was it bad that I seriously thought I was under a Sam spell?

"So, tell me something about yourself."

"I went to college."

A hunter who went to college. The only other person I knew who hunted and had went to college was Poppy. "You're kidding."

He shook his head. "Nope. Stanford."

"Holy fucking shit. That's a tough school. You're a smart cookie." I was in the company of an Ivy Leaguer. Oh my God, he must've thought I was an idiot. "What was your major?"

"Pre-law."

"Why law?"

"Wanted to help people whom would otherwise go overlooked. Give a voice to the voiceless"

"Noble," I said, completely amazed at how even when he wasn't a hunter, he still did something to help people. "Noble and badass."

"What about yourself?"

And this was where I revealed my being a total idiot. "No college. Barely high school. Been hunting all my life."

He cringed, withholding his smile. "You did it first. You brought up hunting."

My mouth fell. "Not fair. Not fair at all. You didn't tell me that topic wasn't up for discussion."

"So do you want to talk about it?"

Pouting my lips, I looked towards to sky as I thought about whether or not we should talk about our "jobs". We could trade some cool stories, but talking about hunting typically ended with someone reminiscing about a tragic experience. I wasn't ready to deal with that and I didn't want to put Sam through this either. "Nah."

"Yeah, it's only the first date. We can talk about that a different day."

Time to use his schtick against him. "Already asking me out again. I must be doing something right."

"I'll let you know by the end of the date."

Oh wow, this wasn't as bad as what I thought it was gonna be. I thought this would be the worst time of my life but I was kind of having fun. Something I didn't get the luxury of having at all. This was kind of nice. "When you see Dean, tell him I said that his car is kind of badass. A lot of guys complimented me today because of it."

Let's see if Sam got jealous over me saying guys admired me.

He didn't. "That car is like his kid. That or his girlfriend. I'm not sure. He calls it pet names and everything."

Hmm... Dean had a nerdy side. Never would've guessed. "Really? And what is it that's your prized possession?" Every hunter had something that kept them sane. Something to keep them feeling human. Dean has his car, Trent was the photo-book of his family, and mine was the teddy bear I received when I was a child. I couldn't go to sleep without it. Then again, my sleeping regime was a little bizarre.

But what was Sam's favorite item. "I guess it's my computer."

Noooooo. "Oh my god. That computer is yours..."

Squinting his eyes, he looked at me skeptically. "Yeah, why?"

How was I supposed to put this? Just out with it, I guess. "So Trent went snooping on it."

Yeah, that eye glare thing he was doing, that went out the window and them were falling out their sockets now. "He what-"

"I begged him not to, but he didn't listen. So when he opened up a browser, there was a shit ton of porn on it. Something from a site called bustyasianbeauties or something. But dude, it was a lot of it. And you have a virus, well had because I got rid of it for you. I just thought it was Dean's but I guess I was wrong."

Eew. And I probably made this date unenjoyable now because Sam had to have thought that I was a snoop. Which I was. This was such an inappropriate time to bring it up.

Sam sighed heavily, holding his face. "It isn't mine. I mean, the computer is, but the porn isn't. That's Dean. I'm going to kill him."

Oh thank heavens. Not that Sam watching porn made him weird. I just didn't want to know his preferences. Besides, he was here with me. He totally liked black girls. "Mhm."

"You don't believe me."

I did, just wanted to fuck with him. "Just doesn't seem likely all of a sudden. Sounds like you're covering your ass."

"How can I change your-"

Sam's sentence came to an abrupt stop and I stopped listening to him too. It seemed we both focused our attention to the faintest of wails outside the diner. It was soft, and no one else inside heard it over their own conversations, but I could hear it. And I was glad to see Sam did too so I didn't seem crazy.

Sam glanced over at me and I took in the frustration and gloom that was written all over his handsome face. Fuck. I knew what that face meant.

This was just balls. Out of all the times for something like this to happen.

"You stay here, I'll go see what's going on." I moved myself from the table, heading to the door.

I felt my wrist being snatched and before I knew it, my body was pressed against Sam's. Ooooh Lord, now wasn't the time to enjoy this man's tempting body and looks. He strained to dip his head towards my ear. "I'm not letting you go out there alone," he whispered making sure no one was paying us attention.

"Someone has to make sure they're safe."

"I'd rather that be you."

Of course, because I was a woman. "You're not sticking me with the wimpy job."

"I'm also not letting anything happen to you."

Or because he was concerned. Something he shouldn't have been. "Are you coming with me then?"

"No. I'm leaving and you're staying here."

Well wasn't this just great? Our first fight as quote unquote, "partners."

He wasn't the one in charge either. "I'm not staying here!"

Sam wasn't going to budge on his position and neither was I. "Then I'm coming with you."

I shrugged. "Fine."

He cleared his throat. "When we leave, lock the doors and turn off the lights. I'll knock three times slowly then two quickly once it's okay to come out. Then and only then will you leave. Understood?"

No one in the place acted as if they wanted to answer. They only looked at us like we were fucking retards and went back to eating their food. What the fuck dude.

"Helllooooooooo. Y'all hear him? We're fucking serious. Do not leave this place."

Still... they didn't agree.

These people were begging to just get fucked up.

Except Mercedes. She seemed to understand the severity of the situation and nodded. "I won't let anything happen."

Pssh, I still ain't like her.

But with a silent thank you, Sam and I left the diner and hopped into his brother's car, ready to investigate who is was that was screaming and what was the cause of it.

Seemed like hunting would be a topic after all.

. . .

**Sam's POV**

Walking into your hotel room only to see your brother about to have sex was never fun for Sam. It happened more often than he liked and each time was equalling humiliating for him. And Dean never seemed to mind.

But now wasn't the time to give into his embarrassment. Sam had important things to talk to his brother about.

"She has to leave, Dean." Sam didn't bother to sound apologetic. Especially since he had to look towards the ground to make sure he didn't see anything he wasn't supposed to.

"Come on, Sam, I'm busy here," his brother pleaded, trying to get Sam to cave. Wasn't going to happen. Not now. "Wait a minute. Sam, are you okay?"

So Dean finally noticed Sam's sweaty and dirty form. About time.

He realized now wasn't a time to fuck around. Literally. "I'm sorry, Linda-"

"Lisa." She corrected.

"Whatever. But this is a bad time. You gotta go."

Sam listened to _Lisa _zip up her pants, pull her shirt on, and pick up her shoes. And then he listened to her sigh. "Fine, I see what's going on. You two are like gay or something."

What did they do to make people think that? They were brothers and even fucking looked alike. Wasn't it obvious?

Sam watched as Dean growled and fell onto his bed. "Sammy, you really fucking owe me. She was double jointed!"

Gross. And he didn't care. "Dean, I'm really sorry about that. But I need to tell you something."

Laughing, his brother gave him a real nerve-wracking grin. "So how was the date? Full of action I see."

Not in the way he thought. "Yeah..."

The grin grew tenfold. "I knew it! She seemed like a freak. A closeted one too. The best kind. So tell me, how was it?"

For once could Dean not pressure Sam about sex? "We didn't have sex."

His smile didn't face. "Oh, so she have you the good ole' tug 'n chug then? Even better! "

He didn't want to address that comment, but it piqued his interest. What the hell was he talking about? "...Tug and... tug and chug?"

"Yeah. Tug 'n chug. Jerk 'n squirt. A hand job, Sam. God, sometimes I wonder if we're even related."

Likewise. "Dean, nothing like that happened."

"Well then you're gonna have to spell it out for me because I'm confused."

He just spat it out. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could help Angie."Angie and I ended up having to hunt a werewolf. We heard a woman screaming and when we got to her, she said her boyfriend didn't look like himself and tried to bite her. The date got cut short."

Yeah, that made his smirk fall. "God dammit, so is everything alright? Did you catch the s.o.b.?"

"We're both fine. I mean, a little soaked from the rain but-"

"That wasn't the only thing that was supposed to get soaked."

"We're both okay."

Scratching his head, Dean lifted himself from the bed. "So this couldn't wait until tomorrow? You crashed me from getting _my_ tug 'n chug and beyond for that?"

Not exactly. "There's more."

"What..."

Ohhhh his brother was going to kill him and Angie. "Don't get mad when I tell you."

His face hardened. "No. I'm gonna get mad an you're gonna tell me regardless."

Sam gave him the bad news first. "Angie's spending the night here."

"That's all? Sweet. Linda didn't have to leave then."

Now for the even worse news. "And we wrecked the impala."

**. . . **

**I love how since Sam and Angie are both usually second in command, that they struggled to figure out who'd be the dominant one in their partnership. **

**And Dean is pissed. **

**We'll see his anger next chapter with Angie. **


	7. Black and Blue

**Dean and Angie really need to learn how to get along. **

**Chapter 7 – Black and Blue**

**. . . **

Sunlight infiltrated the room, scorching my eyes and prompting tears to well in them as I peaked my head from beneath the covers concealing me. My head. My frickin' head. It felt like it had a fight against a cast iron skillet and the skillet won. Why was the room spinning? Did I drink something? Did Sam roofie me? So many questions that needed answers.

I wanted to stay in the bed, to stay in the bed and sleep off whatever hangover-esque thing happened to me. The itchy, cheaply made blankets called to me and were whispering for me to lay back down for just a few more minutes.

I couldn't. I had to endure.

Pulling my covers from off me, I was greeted with a sight that was enough to make my jaw fall.

Where the hell were my clothes and why weren't they on me? Who took them off me and replaced them with grey sweatpants that were too big and an AC/DC shirt that was too lame.

Death; someone was going to die a slow and painful one.

I jumped out of the comfortless bed, wishing I hadn't because it did nothing but make me want to throw up. My balance was off and had me swaying around like Jack Sparrow. And my senses weren't the greatest right now but were slowly coming back to me. Something during my date with Sam went terribly terribly wrong. I couldn't recall anything after me entering the diner. I couldn't even remember what I had to eat. And speaking of eating, my stomach was a hollow lonesome place that was just looking for some company. But by the looks of things, I wouldn't be getting food any time soon. The only thing inside the motel room that was seemingly edible were cartons of smelly chinese food that were slowly rotting.

Eating food would have to wait, someone still needed to pay me in blood. And I knew exactly who was to blame. Dean. I didn't know what he did, or what happened during my date with Sam, but this had his name written all over it in red letters that were bold, underlined and italicized.

Ignoring every bit of pain I was feeling right now was the only option I could choose from. Especially once I heard the running shower in the bathroom turn off. But the obnoxious singing didn't cease.

"_We built this city on rock and roooooooolll!" _

Yeah. That was Dean.

Good. I could wait for him to come out. Dean was going to get beaten and or questioned. I wasn't sure yet. I may have not been even twenty percent okay, but I was prepared to fight if needed. The pillow in my hand said it all.

What I wasn't prepared for, was the sight I saw.

Dean, towel wrapped strategically around his waist, beads of water dripping down his otherwise naked form.

Oh my sweet baby Jesus take the wheel.

Dean may have been the devil incarnate, but his body was created by the hand of God. It was a such a heavenly sight to see that I thought I might go blind just glancing at it.

And that towel... that towel was wrapped right at the part where I didn't want it to be. Just caressing his toned hips. It needed to go. Nowish.

_Ick!_ What was I thinking? He was evil. And had something to do with my kidnapping. Now wasn't the time to have impure thoughts of Dean's body. Two times since Sam and I kind of had a thing going on.

Whatever that thing was.

"Glad to see you're awake. Now you can get the fuck out." He glared at me and I didn't really notice. I was preoccupied looking at the faux hawk he made his hair into. It looked soft and silky. It almost gave Sam's perfect hair a run for his money. Hmm...

No, I was supposed to be the angry one. "What the frick did you do to me, Dean!"

This was our way of saying good morning.

Disgust curb stomped his face and his lip was snarling so hard Billy Idol would be impressed. Well the feeling was mutual.

"Look, if you don't..." Dean's words dropped like a hot potato and he gulped them down, choosing an alternative route. One that I presumed would be less vicious. "Take your shit and get the fuck out."

He wasn't the boss of me! I was a grown ass woman and I wasn't gonna let some man child tell me what to do. "Not until you give me some answers."

Dean looked as if the very thought of us still talking sickened him. His thick eyebrows met in the straightest line I'd ever seen as his eyes dwindled into slits. "And if I don't? What're you gonna do, have a pillow fight with me?"

Fluffing the pillow in my hand, I gave him a look that read don't-fuck-with-me. "Don't act as if it won't hurt. This ain't goose down, Dean, this is pure one-hundred percent cotton."

He didn't even crack a smile. Not even a twitch of the lips. Wow, he had like no sense of humor.

"You could've at least pretended that it was funny."

Muscles flexing as he moved, he waved me off. "It wasn't and I don't want to play comedy hour with you. I'd rather you just take your shit and hit the good ole lonesome road."

Well. The hospitality here was subpar. And if anything, he was taking me back to the hotel Trent was at. If he wasn't already on a manhunt for me. "Where are my clothes?"

He pointed to the trash bag beside him and sure enough, there my clothes were. Except I remembered them being new and clean, not dirty and bloodied. And they were beginning to smell too. Probably because they were drenched. Did it rain last night?

"What did you guys do to me?"

Gang rape. I knew what this was.

"Saved your ass."

Maybe not. "Huh?"

Scratching his head, Dean ruined the cool hairstyle he'd created. "You really don't remember do you?"

"Would we be having this discussion if I did?"

"You and Sam went on a date. Things were going well until you ended up having to go on a werewolf hunt. As you two were hunting you both crashed my baby and in the process of chasing down that werewolf bitch, he found you before you found it and it hit you into a tree. Knocked you out."

Holy moly. That's how our date ended? With me getting my ass handed to me? Everything that happened during the second half of my date with Sam was a blur. Only certain images came to me even though I was trying my hardest to put the entire evening back together. I remember Sam and I arguing over who was going to drive the impala, him looking badass holding a gun in his hand, and me hunting in my dress and no heels because I'd ditched them. Which by the way, made me look just as awesome.

But I got knocked the hell out... by a werewolf no less. Well if they didn't think I was a shitty hunter before, they damn sure thought so now.

I had to restore honor back to my reputation. And Trent's. We were a pair.

"That still doesn't explain me getting into these clothes."

"Those are mine. Sam made me change you into them while he went back out to check on the diner. He also kicked me out of the room and you took my bed. Had to sleep in my car. Which you fucking stole."

Well... he set me straight. That and he was still really mad at me for taking his car. But he totally deserved that! He fought me and always made rude jokes and liked to make me uncomfortable. So it served him right.

"And you wrecked it."

"Me?"

He began searching through his clothes, laying out the ones he intended on wearing neatly on the bed. "I don't know which of you drove, but one of you crashed my fucking car and when I find out who, there's gonna be hell to pay."

He meant every word of what he said as each syllable came off as a harsh staccato. Sam wasn't joking when he talked about Dean loving his car.

And I stole it.

I was badass.

Muahahaha.

"You mind turning around, I'm kind of... you know." He glanced down at his impressive form, giving me all kinds of hints that he wanted to change and needed some privacy.

Mess with him time. "What, afraid I'll see your vagina?"

With a rather silent, "hmmph," Dean tossed aside the towel, letting it drop to the floor and allowing me the privilege to see everything.

Eh-vuh-ree-thang.

Everything but the kitchen sink, honey.

He just didn't give a damn. He'd just let it all hang out and didn't even care.

With good reason too. If I were him I'd give no fucks either.

Quickly turning around, hoping he didn't catch me staring again, I felt my face burning with shame. I was such a punk. "My virgin eyes. My sweet sweet virgin eyes."

I wasn't a virgin, but it'd been so long since I'd seen a dick that I'd might as well have been. And the situation he was working with put all others to shame. The mailman delivered him an impressive package if ya know what I'm sayun'.

"Been around too many boys to know what a man looks like, huh?" I could hear the joy in his voice. The faintest hint of laughter had caught itself in his thorat. He liked making me feel awkward. "Make sure to dream sweetly about it for me alright princess."

"You're such an asshole." My comebacks needed serious reworking. I was never good at them. That was Trent's forte.

"And you love every bit of it."

"Is that what you think? Sounds like someone's mad because I like their younger, much sexier brother instead of them. Boohoo." Sam was full of greatness and victory. Dean was full of loserness and poo.

He chuckled. "Sam hasn't seen your tits has he? Or the skimpy pair of underwear you're currently wearing. You know what, Sam hasn't made you moan like I have either right? And you haven't seen his dick have you? Yeah, seems like I'm extremely jealous of the platonic relationship you have with my brother."

UGH! I just wanted to scream. Just pure rage. That's what he caused me. He had an answer to everything. "It's been a few days. You expect me to fuck him in that short time span. Sorry, I'm not one of the girls you go for."

"Thank God for that." Why did that hurt much more than I would've wanted it to. "You're nothing like the girls I get."

"Yeah. I can actually hold a conversation for more than ten seconds. And I don't put out to any loser with bad pick up lines and smelly cheep cologne."

That response drove him to smell himself. I could hear him sniffing. "It's manly. And my pick up lines aren't bad. I score every time. Even with stuck up snobs like you."

"That would mean that you actually possessed some type of charm that could work on me. But you don't. You're a loser, ugly, and you suck at life."

Yeah. I told him.

"I can't believe you're a hunter and are still alive. You're such a fucking kid."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am fucking not."

"Are fucking too."

"Look, can you just take me home so we can surpass this stupid banter. I can feel my braincells depleting every second I'm with you."

His next words triggered the devil in me. "I'm not taking you anywhere. You're walking."

Not caring if he was still naked or not, I turned to face him, taking in that not only was he fully clothed, but he was completely serious. "What?"

Shrugging, he went on looking for his shoes. "You're trouble. And while that kind of trait is normally a turn on, in this rare occasion, it's not. You've already recked my car, I don't wanna know what else you can possibly do. You're walking."

I wasn't a violent person, that was Trent, but if he was serious then I was really gonna flip my shit. "No. No I'm not."

"The hell you aren't," he scoffed, wiggling one shoe on. "Look you crazy woman, at first, I was all for you and Sam hooking up. He needs to get laid. Probably just as bad as you do. But now, oh this is over. No more."

I don't really know what overtook me, maybe I was being possessed at the moment, but something about Dean's words and how they were said sent me into berserker mode. One minute I was on the other side of the room, the next I was on top of him, wrestling him on the bed for his keys.

We squirmed and grabbed at each whatever piece of each other was in arm's reach, battling for not only the upper hand, but to prove who trumped who. The tension and animosity between was unbearable and it just had gotten to me. The both of us. It'd been such a short time and already we were fighting again, resuming exactly where we left off at Giselle's home.

Hard breathing and groans resumed, along with feeling the weight of Dean's body on my own. I tried punching and clawing at him to no avail. He'd locked my arms already to prevent any more of those attacks.

"Just took a shower and already you're trying to dirty me up." He teased, dipping lower on to my body to prevent me from getting any leverage. "You like me."

He said it like I was in fifth grade and he was trying to exploit me to the entire class. Except, he was so far off that it just made me think he was delusional. What would give him that kind of impression. "You're mind is out in Mars somewhere because you're nuts. Why would you think that?"

He flashed the world's most irritating grin and my innards felt like I'd just committed seppuku. "You can't keep your hands off me. It's understandable. And you're not too bad looking yourself. A little high strung, but you're a good looking chick. I can see why my baby bro likes you."

I don't know why, but with him saying that, my resolve to fight him weakened. That was really sweet of him. Sure, it was a backhanded compliment but it was a compliment nonetheless. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. "Thank you, Dean."

Upon me thanking him he bursted into laughter, spit just flying everywhere as he wheezed and chuckled at me. "And you think you're better than the girl's I go for. You're worse. I didn't even try and your lacy red panties are already on the floor."

That was the comment that resumed out fight. Only we wrestled harder and dirtier. I held nothing back and didn't care if what I did was low. Hair pulling, bite marks, anything and everything I was using to hurt him. Though it didn't work. All he did was laugh.

And it infuriated me.

I tried rolling over to get on top, but that didn't work because he'd soon roll over as well, pining me back beneath him. And this continued. And continued. And continued until not only was I a really dizzy, but feeling both him and I falling off the bed.

This was gonna hurt.

Except it didn't.

I mean yeah it hurt a little but not nearly as much as what I thought it was gonna.

And that wasn't until I saw that it was Dean that was beneath me and not the other way around.

But... I was supposed to be the one be on the bottom.

Unless he risked himself to break my fall.

"You just won't quit. Simmer simmer down dammit." he groaned, aching from the impact of our fall and my brilliant fighting strategy.

"Are you gonna give me a ride back to where Trent is?"

Please let the answer be yes. I was gonna puke if I had to keep fighting. I was already all fucked up, this wasn't helping.

"If that means you'll stop. Yeah."

"Oh thank God," I sighed, surrendering and crashing right on top of him because there wasn't enough space between the bed post and the night stand. Letting my eyes flutter close, I rested my head on his strong chest as I began to regroup. Grateful. That's what I was. Grateful that he caved and let me win. "You're zero for two, Dean. You can't keep letting a girl beat you. Especially one who you think shouldn't be a hunter."

"What?" he screeched in my ear and I felt him lift slightly as if he were gazing at my fallen form. "I won both of those fights."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Angie, Dean, what are you two doing on the floor?" said an extremely confused and befuddled voice. I groaned upon hearing Sam, not sure when he came into the room and what he'd seen. Had it only been the sight of Dean and I breathing hard and sweaty, then this was gonna be entirely misconstrued.

"Heya, Sammy." Dean started, voice cracking. He knew this wasn't good. "When did you get back."

"Just now," he spat, and upon turning my head and opening my eyes to look at him, I immediately shut them close. He was not a happy camper. "What's going on here?"

We were in so much trouble.

**. . . **

**I say both of them are getting side-tracked and aren't being really great hunters. They've been so into each other that nothing's getting solved. **

**And poor Trent. Lord only knows what's going through his head right now. **

**But who are you all liking more? Angie has had her fair share of time with both brother's now. **

**Angie and Sam or Angie and Dean. **


	8. Highway to Hell

**A little bit of how Sam, Angie, and Dean all interact amongst each other.**

**Chapter 8 – Highway to Hell**

Keeping a steady gaze on the road, a low grumble of incoherent nothings fell out Dean's mouth as he tried tuning out the nonsense erupting inside his car. He was sure Sam and Angie weren't paying attention to him anyway, they were more preoccupied getting lost in each other's longing stares, teasing one another, or cracking up in an unsettling fit of laughter to notice his uncomfortableness.

And that bothered him even more. They didn't even attempt to include him in their conversation. He wanted to laugh at their unfunny jokes too. He wanted to be a part of their secret group. Was he not good enough for them? Did he not fit the requirements? Instead, they were making him out to be their chauffeur. He'd speak only when spoken to and if they didn't, he was to be as quiet as a sinner on Sunday.

What bothered him the most however, wasn't their shunning him, it was Sam's cold distance towards him during the car trip that angered Dean beyond belief. When he told Sam why Angie was on top of him on the floor, Sam hardly believed him. Didn't think it was the truth for a second. When Angie told him the exact same thing? Sam not only believed her, but forgave her on the spot. And then had the nerve to tell Dean off for not wanting to give her a ride. Could you see why? The girl was trouble. He knew it.

To be honest though, Dean couldn't say he hated her. She irked him, hell yeah, but he didn't hate the poor girl. The two getting off on the wrong foot was the reason behind her pissy demeanor. He could tell. The way she responded to his compliments not an hour ago proved it all. And technically, he couldn't be mad at her and blame her for wrecking his car because he still had no idea who did. She didn't know the answer and Sam was keeping it a secret to either save himself or her.

But why wasn't she that fond of him? That was the question that had been nagging him since their first meeting. Dean usually had women wrapped around his pinky finger in minutes. But not only was she reluctant in giving him the chance to prove himself, _she _conned _him. _She was the one who let him get his defenses down and while he was vulnerable, she capitalized like a true hunter.

What did he do to her that was so bad? Did he destroy her valuables, steal her shit, or make her out to be a fool? Sure, he was lewd, but she was a hunter, she could handle that. He knew his boundaries and where to tread lightly. He didn't think he crossed the line.

So why did she immediately dislike him?

Shit, he didn't have the time to ponder the inner workings of her mind. Not only was she hunter, that was hard enough to try and pick a part, but she was a woman on top of it. And while he knew women on a physical perspective, emotionally was a different story.

From here on out though, he'd try to be a little nicer to her. For Sam's sake. They didn't seem like they'd be splitting up any time soon and he didn't want his relationship with Angie to become a drag since she was clearly sticking around. At least until the end of this hunt. Did he want to be the bigger person? No. But that was his job. He always had to be the bigger person. He was the oldest, the most mature, and kind of the boss of the entire group because age was on his side.

Angie was younger than him right? She looked about Sam's age.

And no. He wasn't the most mature in the car. Not by a long shot. But he'd like to think so from time to time. And Angie seemed to be on his level of maturity. She was hot-headed, goofy, a fighter, and liked to joke around. Everything he was and did. Sam went for girl's like that? Dean always thought Sam like book-smart librarian girls. Was Jess like Angie? It made more sense for her like Dean. Didn't it?

And with the way she was dressed last night, there was no denying the hotness of this chick. She was dirtied, bloodied, incapacitated, and still looked smokin'. Like candy to a fat diabetic. Or how about the body beneath the clothes. A few hunter's badges decorated her honey colored skin but that was to be expected. What was also to be expected was how great of a shape she had. Fit from her job, but still had womanly cuves and soft skin. Everything Dean imagined after hugging her.

Yeah, he imagined. Sam may have tagged her as his but Dean was still a man.

"Dean, settle the debate between Sam and I please," he heard the sound of Angie's delicate and fragile voice call to him from the backseat of the Impala. She had such a sweet voice but the things she said to him were less that sugary.

"He's not gonna be on your side. I'm trying to spare you." He saw Sam's genuine grin form on his face. A real grin. Not the contrived ones he made with others just to pretend he was normal. Even his brother's eyes lit up. They weren't hardened like Dean's normally were.

He hadn't seen Sam smile like that for a while. Hell, even Dean didn't get the chance to smile like that very often.

Maybe being a part of this conversation would.

"You all want me to be the tie-breaker, huh?" he asked, his own smile fading as he watched Sam slightly shift in his seat. He was still mad at him.

He saw that Angie noticed his brother's discomfort too. When he gazed at her from the rear-view mirror he saw how her eyes flicked to Sam's sudden shift as well.

Dean was gonna get an ear-full from out of him once she was gone. Oh man, he was in for it.

Astonishingly, Angie still attempted to bring him into the conversation to alleviate the tension. She saw that Sam was upset with him and tried to remedy it. She gained cool points for that. Maybe she was gonna take the road he was currently on and try to make things right between the both of them. "Yeah, Dean, he and I are having a fight-"

"It's not a fight. I'm listening to you defend yourself on something you're incredibly wrong over and refuse to admit it."

"I'm totally not wrong, Sam. And I am one trillion percent sure that Dean is going to agree with me."

"I know my brother, he's not gonna side with you, and you're going to embarrass yourself. I'm trying to be nice and stop it from happening, but if you're ready for it then go on ahead. Ask away."

Pouting, she folded her arms on over her nice rack. "Fine."

Sam continued their playful banter. "Fine."

"Do you like comics, Dean?" she asked, though he was sure that was just a question leading into the real discussion at hand.

He gave his answer. "Of course. Every boy growing up at some point loves comic books."

But he was surprised _she_ did. Most girls you meet didn't really know much about Marvel or DC.

Looking from Sam back to Dean, Angie blinked her light brown eyes. "Iron Man or Batman."

What. That wasn't even a contest. Batman. Batman always. Who the fuck cared about Iron Man? Since when was he even in the top five of greatest comic book heroes?

He didn't know how to answer the question though. He knew Sam's answer was Batman, and he knew Sam knew what his answer was, but he also didn't want to further fuck up his chances of getting a healthy relationship with Angie. But if he lied and answered Iron Man, Sam would be even more upset with him.

So he was caught in the balance. He could win points with Angie or his brother. Who to choose?

Family first. Always.

"Batman."

Angie didn't get upset, instead she gasped dramatically. Something similar to tires screeching on asphalt. "Sacrilege."

"Told you," Sam teased, glancing over his seat to her. "And now it's time for the embarrassment."

Dean almost laughed at Angie's reaction to their ganging up on her, but decided to explain his answer instead. "Batman gets all the girls, has cool gadgets, and the greatest rides. Next to my baby of course." He pet the steering wheel of his car. No batmobile could beat his impala.

Yeah, Dean was Batman.

"Oh that's bull," Angie griped and this was probably the first real chit chat they'd had. One that didn't involve name calling or trash talking. He was getting a fine look at who she was beneath the hunter exterior. She didn't seem like too bad of a girl. She was almost actually pleasant to be around. "Iron Man has all of that and then some. He sleeps with countless women - Bruce pretends to. Has a damn death machine suit - that beats any kind of batmobile. He has beaucoup gadgets. And what makes him better is that he built everything himself. He was self-reliable. Plus he was a drunk who knew how to party. Bruce Wayne was so broody that it made me want to pity him, not fuck him."

"Woooooooah," Dean blurted at how blunt and candid she was between the two of them. That was totally left field. "The language. Watch it."

"Angie." Sam sighed her name. "You just made the conversation awkward for all of us."

"Oh come on," she whined, trying to defend herself. Just as Sam said she would. "No one roots for Batman to save the day. He was an introverted mess."

Another reason why Dean didn't know why Angie disliked him. Technically speaking, a womanizing drunk who knew how to party was Dean all the way. The broody, deep, dark, depressing boy, that was right up Sam's alley.

And now that she mentioned it, Iron Man _was_ kind of cooler.

Okay, he changed his mind on everything.

He was totally Iron Man.

Batman, sans the women and the amazing car, that was his baby bro.

Sam wasn't buying it though. "Bruce Wayne is more realistic-"

Angie cut him off. "As realistic as a crime-fighting bat is, sure."

Sam only waved her off. "Bruce couldn't actually handle the double life he was given. He had to fight his demons. He became obsessed with saving the world and thought of himself last. He didn't kill anyone, he didn't want fame from it, he didn't ask for thank yous, he did his job and was portrayed as a soulless philanderer. True selflessness at it's core. Tony Stark was a selfish, pompous asshole."

Okay. Dean changed his mind. He was back to being Batman.

"You proved my point. Tony Stark could handle his job and then go lay down some serious pipe. You just basically summed up Batman as a puss."

Dammit. He was Iron Man again. They needed to stop with all of this.

Dean would be damned if they continued talking about fucking comic books. They needed more interesting topics. "Alright, children, let's just agree to disagree. Besides, they don't stand a chance against us. Hunters. Now we're the real super-heroes."

Raising her hand to the sky, Angie bowed her head. "Amen."

Then came Sam's agreeance. "I guess you're right."

"Damn right, I'm right. We could take on Batman, Iron Man, and Wolverine, any day."

"So long as we can all come to terms that women hunters trump men." Angie showed off her bright set of teeth, knowing that what she was saying would elicit reactions from Dean and Sam.

Except Sam wasn't on the team Dean thought he'd be. "Agreed."

Dean would have to defend the men then, because they were both dead wrong. "Are you guys serious? No way. We're equal."

Angie clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shaking her head. "Sam, do you wanna handle this one?"

"I think you'd be a better advocate."

"You're the soon-to-be lawyer."

"You're the girl."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Dean. Men don't go through nearly as much as us women hunters do."

Oh this was gonna be good. "Really. Such as?"

"Well, when we're playing detective, the men only see us as meat and the women immediately think we've slept with every man to get our job. Both think we're not qualified. Even in the hunting world we get stigmatized. You two can't tell me that upon seeing me you didn't think I was lousy at what I did. Not you Sam. But Dean, it took me kicking your ass for you to realize I was good."

She didn't kick his ass. And she really needed to stop thinking she did. It was all a part of being a hunter though. Backing down wasn't an option. "Bull. Women are just as qualified for this horrible job as men are. I don't think one is better than the other. I've met shitty men and women hunters along with great ones. Case in point, Ellen and Jo. We're equal."

She must've thought he was just woman-loving pig. That he had zero substance. Wow, she was wrong. Dean didn't think like most of the men hunters did. If they were talking to another man, maybe they'd share the beliefs Angie was talking about. But Dean didn't care about gender, sexual preferences, race, or any other fucked up hangups. If you were a hunter, you gained a respect from him that he didn't give anyone else.

Didn't mean he had to like you though.

"Fine. So you two aren't the average hunters. You both are different."

"So are you." Sam scratched his head. "Not every day you meet a pair of hunters like you and Trent."

Trent. Just his name alone was enough to anger Dean. Angie, he could deal with her, it was Trent that really infuriated him. While he'd try his damnedest to get along with the girl for his brother's sake, he wouldn't be so kindhearted to her partner.

"Now I will admit, Trent is one of a kind." Dean heard Angie's soft sigh. "But let me just say this, if you've ever hunted on your period then you'd know why I think women are superior to men."

Sam shuddered and gave his reaction first. "Gross."

But it didn't take long for a squicked out Dean to give his comment. "Now that's just disgusting."

He didn't even want to fathom what it was like to...

Ugh.

And for five days?

Yuck.

It was decided, women had it worse than men.

"You two are such..." Angie's sentence fell short upon her feeling Dean's car slow down and eventually come to a stop. Her face scrunched into a ball of distress as she peered out her window and gazed at the Motel before them. "Well, you boys sure know how to make the time fly by. I guess I'll see ya when I see ya."

The smile that never left Sam's face finally disappeared and was taken over by a slight pout. Men don't pout, Sammy. Jesus, did Dean have to teach you everything? "Yeah, seems like it."

Oh man, and he sounded like a puss.

"Don't sound so glum, Sam." Angie put it much more nicely than Dean would've. "We're on the same case remember? We're bound to run into each other."

She was initiating seeing him again! Now all that was left was for his baby bro to jump on that so she'd eventually jump on him.

"I'm looking forward to it."

Not what Dean would've said, but it was the best he could expect from Sam.

Angie was lingering in the car, a sign that she wanted more than what Sam was giving her. She wanted to be asked out again. Dean could tell by the way she was fidgeting in her seat. She was waiting for Sam to bring up the date.

Dean wasn't going to. Sam had to be a man.

"And thanks for the amazing date. More or less. Can't remember much," she blushed, taking an open jab at herself.

COME ON SAMMY! Ask her out!

"We'll just have to have a do-over then."

Dean wanted to give a chuckle of approval. He couldn't have delivered the line better himself. It wasn't a question and it wasn't too forceful. It was just the right amount for a girl like Angie.

"Are you asking me out, Sam Winchester?"

Don't agree and don't deny. Be neutral.

"Depends. Are you accepting?"

Maybe Dean needed to give Sam more credit. He'd learnt a thing or two from him over the years. It was about time.

Now it was time for Angie to accept and Sam to feel like a million bucks. Which in turn, made Dean feel like _two _million. He loved to see his brother happy. Another reason why he'd have to get along with the girl.

As soon as she opened her mouth to accept, Angie's partner Trent was already stepping in. He was disrespectfully banging on the window of Dean's car, desperate to get his partner's attention. "Angie! Bring your ass back here so we can talk about these two."

It took every bit of Dean not to get out of his car and knock some sense into that asshole.

"And goddamn! What the fuck happened to this piece of shit. Y'all need to stop playing Knight Rider and get a car that makes you seem like less of a douchebag."

Yeah, because owning a bulky Hummer was so much better.

"Cut it out, Trent, I'll be out in a second." Angie rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to Sam. With a loud exhale, she grabbed ahold of the front seat, pulling herself forward to press her lips against Sam's cheek. Dean glanced out the corner of his eye and saw the kiss was soft and barely there. Something very innocent.

But the heat that spiked in Sam was enough to melt glaciers in Antarctica.

Alright, Sammy!

And then Trent ruined the moment. "Ahhh, tsuki tsuki now."

Angie let out a frustrated groan, turning to Dean. In the few seconds of them looking at each other Dean knew that the two still weren't over what had happened between them. That she was keeping up the act in front of Sam for his benefit just as he was. "Dean."

He'd make sure all her anger changed into nothing but love. Y'know, in a friendship kind of way. "Angie."

"I'll make sure to deliver your clothes back to you when I can."

He shook his head. "Nah, just keep 'em. They look better on you than they do on me anyhow."

Shit. That sounded like he was flirting. It slipped out. He didn't mean for it to.

"Thanks." He took in how she stared at him puzzledly.

"Angie, come the fuck on. We have a job to do."

"What do you think I'm doing, Trent? God, I'm coming," she snapped, swinging open the door to his car and hopping out of it.

"I wonder how many times you screamed that to Sam last night."

"SHUT UP!"

Dean and his brother watched as the two hunters teased and insulted each other as they walked back to their motel room. He noticed how the two interacted much like he did with Sam. The two may have not been bonded by blood, but they were definitely family.

"You are so dead when we pull off," Sam sighed between his grit teeth pulled into a smile.

Christ, he didn't think he'd ever say this, but he was missing Angie already. She was the only thing saving him. "Yeah. I know."


End file.
